


Hands Of Time

by divybread



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Co-workers, F/M, Light Angst, M/M, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-18 14:04:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7318174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/divybread/pseuds/divybread
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s ten minutes past three, the sky behind the tower clock is pitch black, mostly because of all the light pollution making it impossible for him to spot any stars. He’s been sitting on his bed watching the hands of that damn clock move ever since the longest hand was on the eight. He hasn’t seen anything move but the time still has passed. Forty minutes of it, all gone by in what feels to be the blink of an eye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There is darkness in the way the hands of the clock seem to not move but somehow still manage to keep showing the right time. He has been staring at them for hours and he’s convinced magic is at work here. Granted, those hours have not passed in one go, but ever since he’s moved to the apartment across from the town hall with a clear bedroom window view on the tall building’s clock, he’s probably watched it every night before sleeping, trying to catch the hands’ movements. No such luck for him. Time passes, there’s no doubt there, but it is not visible and for some reason that bugs him more than the mess his apartment still is.

Boxes are spread around, some empty, some partly cleared out, some still taped closed. It isn’t that he doesn’t want to clean up the mess of his move, he just doesn’t find the proper time for it in between work, travelling back and fro, the phone calls from his family and ... sitting in front of his window staring outside. Admittedly, that last one he could avoid and use the time for better purposes, but somehow the mere thought has him reject the boxes with past memories so violently that he’s already lost one by throwing it out his window. Two stories down to the balcony below.

He doesn’t know what those people have done with the box. God, he doesn’t even know what was in the box exactly. Perhaps if he ever gets around to looking in the other boxes he will, but he doesn’t know. And he doesn’t quite care that he doesn’t. For all he cares he’s thrown the extent of his fortune down to that balcony. It all doesn’t matter anymore.

Which is funny, because he truly isn’t depressed or anything to the likes. People use that word too easily these days. He’s fine with his job, with his life, with everything. Except for the boxes. They bother him like an itch he can’t scratch and their incessant presence only makes him want to make them disappear even more. But he doesn’t. They stay where they are and he just heads over to the bedroom to get some necessary hours of sleep in.

.

It’s six AM when he wakes up to a particularly empty room. The clock ticks the seconds away, one by one, while he spends time doing nothing. He’s not sure what woke him up, just that he’s awake now and the bed is far too nicely warmed up to want to roll out into the cold air of the room. There’s a little hint of a smile on his face as he blindly stares up at the ceiling, eyes not really seeing anything but merely looking ahead of himself.

He’s not smiling because he’s happy, in fact he doesn’t actually know why he’s smiling, he just does because the smile was there when he woke up and it would take effort to change his expression into something else, effort he doesn’t want to put into it. So he pulls the blanket a little more tightly around himself, curses when his feet catch a moment of cold air and pulls up his legs a little so he can huddle into the blanket without trouble.

Today is a cold day. Not just outside of the house, but inside as well. And somehow he feels like he is freezing on the inside too. But it was to be expected from a day like today. Why would the weather be good when half the world is going to have to say goodbye to one of their most beloved superstars? Right. He doesn’t have an answer to that question either. Not that he’s saying goodbye to a superstar, per se. No, he’s saying goodbye to his girlfriend, the love of his life, the woman who was ready to spend the rest of her life with him.

If he really wanted to spend the rest of his life with her? He’s not so sure. It doesn’t matter anymore anyway now. Funny how those things go. Just a week ago he was trying to figure out his life and what he was going to do with it for the long run, and now he doesn’t have to anymore because the whole reason for his wondering has been taken away from him. He feels somewhat numb about it. They say it’s the shock and he will start to realise it soon. He doesn’t feel shocked, he feels relieved, more so.

He of course doesn’t tell anyone _that_.

.

With a soft sigh, he turns away from the sad scene, slowly walking away from it. It’s all over now. The last remains of his girlfriend are now buried under layers of earth and soil. Strangely enough, it doesn’t really register in his mind yet. The whole arranging thing is over. Thousands of people sending him supportive messages through every available means will finally leave him alone again. The huge responsibility he carried as ‘the boyfriend of’ has finally slipped off his shoulders. He is now free to do his own thing. He is now alone.

The tears are on his cheeks before he has properly reached the privacy of his car. There’s no one around to notice them, luckily, so his moment of weakness goes by unnoticed. At least to those who have attended the funeral. Instantly wiping at his cheeks the moment the door of his tinted car closes behind him, he takes the moment of peace and quiet behind the wheel to reconsider everything he has ever done to get to this point. It doesn’t take long before he knows why he’s suddenly crying.

The relief, once again.

And he knows he should never have been with her to begin with. Which is a little late to figure that out, but better late than never they always say. Another thought that should never leave the confines of his own mind. How lucky he is that mindreading is not a commonly owned skill within humanity. But he still checks the faces of the people outside of his car to see if any of them will give his car offended looks. No one does.

He starts his car and drives away. Ready to disappear from the public eye completely now that he is no longer ‘the boyfriend of’ anymore. And he hopes the public will let him go as easily as everyone at the funeral is doing.

.

Time goes by. Seconds, minutes, hours. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. There’s no ending, and there’s not really a start either. Time goes by, it has done, it always will, there is no changing that. The tower clock outside his living room window is clear proof of it. What time is exactly, he’s not so sure. But it’s passing, leaving, lots of it at once. While he is staring at the clock, wondering about what it is that he might be forgetting, because the feeling he is forgetting something does not leave him.

Months have passed since the burial. The public leaves him alone now, they have as good as forgotten him despite the high level of her popularity. He was never the one in their favour, after all. In fact, there were even a couple of sites that started to turn against him, posting articles of how well and happy he seemed despite what had happened to his beloved girlfriend. He decided to lay low for a little while and soon enough the negative reports stopped showing, too.

No matter what he believed a couple of months ago, he has changed jobs too. The previous one just wasn’t cutting it anymore. Too much stress, not enough he got out of it. The new one is closer to his new home as well, so that’s a nice added bonus. And he has been promoted to head of his department after a good month and a half of working only, proving how highly they value his talents at the new place.

So he is good. He is better than he has been in a while, actually. The peace and quiet is doing wonders. Admittedly some of his boxes still haven’t been unpacked but he has a clear idea of what is in which box by now. The one he’d thrown down having been dropped off in front of his door not too long after, with a note stating they thought he had accidentally dropped it and so they were giving it back to him. It contained a couple of pictures and a bunch of letters exchanged between him and the ex-girlfriend. Lucky him his downstairs neighbours don’t seem to be a curious bunch.

Cut the flashback, return to the present, where another ten minutes have gone by without him even consciously noticing the hands of the tower clock move. Perhaps he should think of a hobby, something to do in between work hours, something he can get out of his home for and spend some time on. Something he can also meet other people with, so he can perhaps start building up his group of friends again – another thing he’s lost since the death of the ex-girlfriend.

He decides it’s a good idea and spends the next half an hour thinking about the things he used to do in the past that he really enjoyed doing. He comes up empty handed in the end, because starting to play basketball again at near-thirty is really not the best idea he’s ever had. Especially not since he’s spent the last seven years on his ass at a desk.

.

“Good afternoon, sir! My name is Zhang Yixing, I have been assigned as your personal secretary. I am fluent in English, Spanish, French, Mandarin and have a basic knowledge of Cantonese.” The hand reached out to him doesn’t waver for a second, even when he’s staring blankly at it for a solid minute before reaching out to shake it in greeting. “My American friends have taken to calling me Lay, so feel free to do so as well if that’s easier for you. I hope we’ll be able to work well together!”

The words are followed by a respectful bow, the only thing about the other guy – aside from his looks – that gives away his Chinese origin. His English is indeed flawless and he’s pretty sure no one in their department is going to notice the guy’s not originally American. Something he himself also only knows because he’s just done a speed read-through of Lay’s resume, after having been informed of his personal secretary’s arrival just ten minutes prior.

“I’ll probably interchange between the two,” he replies calmly, nodding once at his new secretary and taking a moment to decide which part of his words will come next. “Welcome to the team, I hope you’ll feel at ease in the group here, but I don’t think it’ll be that big of an issue.” Motioning over to the desk on the other side of his office, he hopes his new secretary gets the hint. “You’ll be working from over there mostly. Feel free to take the time left before lunch to put your stuff in place and get an image of your new work place.”

The response he gets to his words is instant. Yixing gives a nod of his head and turns to look at the desk and computer as well. He thinks the male will go over there next, but instead Yixing turns to look at him once more. “I hope we’ll manage to work well together too, Mister Wu!” he chimes with a bright smile and it’s like a little bit of sunshine was placed directly in his chest. Clearing his throat in surprise, he nods his head once.

“Ah… Yes,” he manages to utter, nodding his head once more and clearing his throat a second time. Instantly the anxiety he thought he’d won from years ago creeps back up all at once, clogging his throat and shutting down his ability to consciously think. “Well…” Swallowing, he decides to leave it at that and simply turns away to walk back to his desk, so he can take a seat and continue his work – something he is very capable of doing and doesn’t need to feel so awkward over as he has over the conversation he just finished.

.

His new secretary settles in quite well and it takes only five weeks for him to adapt to the new presence in his office too. He calls it ‘only’ because with the amount of times he’s uttered nonsensical sounds or stared at his secretary blankly for full minutes, five weeks is shorter than he’d expected the torture to last. Yixing takes it all with a smile, doesn’t question him about it once despite the fact that he must look like a retarded caveman sometimes and does a great job altogether.

Tuesday of the sixth week, he manages to greet Yixing good morning and ask how he’s been casually without even once giving up halfway. He hears from his other co-workers over lunch that Yixing has been asking them whether something happened at home because he’s being so nice. He prays to God they haven’t told Yixing about his now dead ex-girlfriend and belatedly realises that’s the first time he thinks of her again in months.

Half an hour later, sitting back at his own desk with Yixing typing away on his computer across from him, he realises these questions mean his secretary thinks he’s usually a jerk and that only personal issues could turn him nice. Which is not the kind of image he usually has. “We told him you’re always nice, Kris,” his colleagues had reassured him. Which, come to think of it, is another thing his secretary doesn’t do. Five weeks in Yixing still calls him ‘sir’ or ‘Mister Wu.’

It’s only when five o’clock comes around and Yixing gets up for a coffee break that he manages to crack the mystery of how his secretary came to think of him as an asshole. All his early bolting from conversations, minute-long blank staring and barely uttered nonsensical sounds weren’t taken as awkward anxiety by the young male, but instead interpreted as Yifan not wanting anything to do with him whatsoever.

It stuns him for a moment, but is then followed by an honest to God question; how did Yixing ever manage to sit in a room with a guy he thought hated him for five weeks straight and still smile that brightly and play the loyal subordinate?

.

It’s ten minutes past three, the sky behind the tower clock is pitch black, mostly because of all the light pollution making it impossible for him to spot any stars. He’s been sitting on his bed watching the hands of that damn clock move ever since the longest hand was on the eight. He hasn’t seen anything move but the time still has passed. Forty minutes of it, all gone by in what feels to be the blink of an eye.

He’s still mulling over what his colleagues tell him Yixing thinks of him. It’s making him feel guilty, for some reason, that his secretary thinks of him as a rude, angry guy. He’s nothing like that, or at least that’s what he likes to think. The other employees in his department have never mentioned any opinion like that and they’ve been doing their utter best to make sure he knew that earlier over lunch when they mentioned Yixing’s words.

Or maybe they think of him as angry and dangerous too, maybe that’s exactly why they were trying so hard to make him believe he’s not a bad guy. Maybe they’re all scared shitless of him, like in the movies, and he’s the only one in the whole world who thinks he’s a good guy. Or well, his mother is probably on his side in this matter too. His father has no right of speaking since he isn’t exactly a marshmallow himself.

A muffled sound tells him it’s a quarter past three by then, another five minutes having passed by him without him even fully noticing. Sighing deeply because the passing of the five more minutes means he’s got five minutes less of sleep left, he moves to crawl underneath his blanket and closes his eyes, telling himself he will definitely try to be nicer to his secretary from now on and convince the male that he is not at all a brute nor an angry person.

.

The breath is urged out of him when Yixing pushes harshly against his abdomen. He feels the sharpness of the edge of his desk digging into his upper thigh, but chooses to ignore it in favour of focusing on his secretary in front of him. Lay is looking at him full of determination and it doesn’t take long for his secretary’s hands on his shirt to rip it open. And with rip he really means rip, because he’s pretty sure there’s a button flying upwards to the ceiling – possibly even hitting it.

Before he can protest against the manhandling, there is one hand on his chest and the shorter male is leaning in dangerously close. Only a brief sound of question leaves his lips before they are covered with his secretary’s. He gasps for air in surprise, but it is muffled in the kiss as well, Yixing not laying off even a millimetre. Grabbing hold of the edge of his desk with his hands in his surprise, he registers the way Yixing’s knee wriggles itself in between his own two legs. He’s doing nothing to stop it. He knows he should be doing something to stop it, but he’s not.

In fact, he is even cooperating, he realises moments later, when his own hands let go of the desk and he puts them around his secretary’s waist. Let’s forget all about the other people that could look over and into his office at any minute, is apparently what some completely deranged part of him decided, because he is pulling Yixing into him, kissing back with as much passion as the younger is kissing him with.

Pulling back a split moment to catch his breath and swallow, he instantly leans in again when he can, one hand now on the back of Yixing’s head, the other in his side. Meanwhile his secretary’s hands are roaming over his upper body freely, giving extra attention to his long ago lost abs, aka his little recently-acquired flap of microwave meals and more wine than he wishes to admit to. Yixing seems to have no problem with his lack of working out, however, because the younger male’s hands keep roaming, even going down to his pants.

His pants, oh dear lord his pants. There is a hand on his pants and it knows exactly where to be, it seems. His own hands instantly start to move as well, fingers digging through Yixing’s hair before heading down over his back so he can unbuckle his secretary’s pants. If his shirt is off, then the younger male is losing a piece of clothing too. And he can just as well go for the interesting part straight away. Which, he belatedly realises, is a thought he really doesn’t usually have. Especially not about another guy’s pants.

A loud bang makes the memory of his other colleagues instantly come back to mind. One of them is knocking on the window in utter disgust at that very moment, most probably, outrage at what he is doing at work inside his office with his own freaking secretary. He’s almost afraid of what he will find when he looks over but despite his reluctance to know, the sound makes his head whip to the side anyway.

His eyes open to the sight of the tower clock, the hands pointing out seven AM on its display, the bell chiming six more times while his heavy breathing sounds up harshly in the empty room. It actually takes him several long seconds to realise it was all a dream and he’s back home, still at the beginning of the day he was supposedly already living in his imagination. When he moves to get out of bed, he notices the other effect his dream had on him. The horror haunts him all the way into the bathroom and beyond.

.

He manages to greet everyone at the office properly, even his secretary who gets up from his chair to greet him. That is, of course, until Lay comes up to him with determined steps, a hand reaching out to go for his shirt. He backs away instantly, the sharp edge of his desk digging into his upper thigh. Instantly scooting away from the sensation, he thereby only flings himself closer towards his secretary, who is looking at him in surprise because of the briefcase he’s holding up in between them to aid in his defence.

“What is wrong with you?” he hisses at his secretary, naturally only increasing the younger male’s confusion. Something that is etched clearly into Lay’s expression, giving the shorter male something akin to endearing. Instantly he backs away again, allowing his desk to dig into his thigh this time, anything better than Yixing’s hands coming too close to his chest. No matter how clueless Lay is looking at him.

“Your tie, sir, it’s not properly tied,” his secretary tells him, motioning lightly with one hand to his tie which is hidden behind his briefcase. He looks down to see if it’s a lie or not, but of course only sees the tip of his downwards hanging accessory. Looking back up at Yixing’s almost worried expression, he realises he’s acting like a crazed lunatic. Not exactly a great way to get his secretary to think of him in a more positive light.

“Oh,” he breathes out, lowering the briefcase and lifting his free hand to tug on the tie somewhat uselessly.

“I will…” Yixing utters, reaching out his hands to indicate he’ll help. For a split second he wants to once again block the other from reaching for his collar, but he manages to keep his hands at his sides this time.

“Yeah. Sure. Alright.” Clearing his throat, he awkwardly stands there while his secretary fixes whatever’s wrong with his tie. When Yixing takes a step back, he looks at the smile that blooms on his secretary’s face and feels the sun shine once more.

“There, all better, sir,” Lay speaks and he nods his head quickly.

“Alright. Thanks. For that. Yeah.” He half wishes he can detach his own vocal cords from his brain in order to not utter such stupid nonsense again, but merely turns away from his secretary to be able to put his briefcase at the side of his desk and check the mail that has been delivered for that day. “What are my appointments for today?” He absentmindedly wonders as he takes off his coat, listening with half an ear to what Yixing’s listing while he reads through his letters.

Half an hour later, when he asks Lay to repeat about half of the appointments because he didn’t get them properly, he starts to realise why the younger male might think he’s an asshole.

.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Layxi- Yi- La- Xing.” Realising halfway through what a major fuckup he was making out of his secretary’s name, he’s all the more embarrassed when it ends in all the possible syllables he could combine put together. Clearing his throat, he glances up at his secretary momentarily to gauge his reaction. Yixing is smiling, clearly amused but trying to keep it in, nodding his head regardless.

“Alright, sir. I’m just going to finish up these last few reports. Have a good night, I’ll see you in the morning.” All the politeness that anyone could ever muster comes together in the way Yixing still manages to sound alright and non-amused when he speaks, causing him to stop in his tracks and look over at the male for a little while longer in silence. Lay seems to have no clue of his staring, continuing to type away on his keyboard. Until his secretary realises no door has closed and lifts his head to look up.

He startles at the sudden eye-contact, gripping better hold of his briefcase and readjusting the coat over his arm. “You, uhm, stay in this late more often?” He questions, for a lack of anything else to say and because he suddenly does indeed wonder if his secretary is doing this much overtime on a regular basis.

“Only when you do, sir,” the answer comes, a cheeky smile accompanying it which makes him smile back instantly. Even huffing out the beginning of a chuckle.

“Ah… Yes, I see.” Nodding his head once, he takes in the sight of his secretary behind his desk, piles of finished and unfinished reports surrounding him. He figures everyone deserves a break – and this is his chance of changing Yixing’s opinion on him. “Leave it for today, we’ll finish that tomorrow,” he therefore speaks up, willingly making eye contact with the younger male this time. “Come on. I’ll give you a ride home.”

Lay’s eyebrows rise in surprise, but he doesn’t miss a heartbeat in clicking away some things on his computer screen and getting up. “Certainly, sir. Thank you very much, sir.” He pretends not to see the cautious gaze Yixing sends his way before grabbing his own coat and bag, but simply walks out the door and opts to wait for his secretary at the elevator instead.

.

“It took her all of seven hours to get the crayon off the walls,” his secretary declares, the laughter hitching in his throat before it comes out again. He doesn’t even remember ever having heard Yixing laugh – seen him do it from a distance with other colleagues, yes, but not up close like this in a conversation they’re having – but it is definitely a catchy sound. Chuckling along somewhat himself, he keeps his eyes on the road, despite the huge traffic jam they’re still stuck in, forty minutes after having left the office.

So far he’s been told of Yixing’s endeavours as a young child more than his own mother has told him about his. It amuses him yet endears him at the same time, mostly because his secretary speaks with such clear love about both his mother, who’s been raising him on her own. One of the reasons he’s in the US to begin with; she had not wanted to try raising her son as a lone mother in China and therefore had taken the risk of coming to the US where she thought she would have better chances.

As far as he is concerned, Yixing’s mother did the right thing. Her son grew up to be an incredibly polite and successful person. In fact, he’s pretty damn sure Yixing is more than capable to be in a higher up position himself, but he hasn’t found the guts – nor the moment – to ask why the younger male isn’t yet. It’s too entertaining to listen to stories of Yixing’s youth instead anyway. A series of stories that finally seem to meet its end when Yixing’s laughter dies away and no new anecdote is started. He understands why, however, when the jam finally clears up in front of them and they get to drive past a four-car-collision with police and ambulances spread around.

“It’s not that far anymore now,” Yixing tells him and he lets out a snort. “You said that thirty minute ago as well,” he pipes up, glad that his secretary catches the amusement in his words and laughs along rather than feels bad about it. “For real this time,” Yixing utters in between a chuckle. “Unless another couple people managed to smash their cars together in the next three streets.”

That doesn’t turn out to be the case and he soon pulls into the street where Yixing’s apartment is located. It only takes one look at the buildings for him to make a face, however. “You live here?” he questions, and this time the disapproval must be obvious in his expression as well because he can’t find it in himself to try and school his face. “Please tell me you’re high up, ground floor must be filled with rats.” When he turns his face to Yixing, he knows he hit the truth spot on.

“I’ve only had one this week,” his secretary seemingly tries to defend himself and he swears he sees a couple of rats scurry away on the sidewalk right then. Slowly pulling up in front of the building Yixing told him is the one to be at, he swallows and makes a quick decision. “Just grab a bag of your stuff. I have a free guest room you can use.” And a bathroom you don’t have to be afraid rats will be washing themselves in, but he doesn’t add that in favour of remaining somewhat polite. Yixing takes another surprised look at him, but just nods once and gets out of the car without any protest.

.

It’s only somewhere around lunch the next day that he starts to wonder why his ever so polite secretary didn’t even try to decline his offer the previous day. Is it because the younger male is some sort of leach or, more probably, because his secretary is still convinced he is a cold, angry bastard? One glance over at the other desk in his office shows him Yixing is neck deep – almost literally – in files and reports without a single word of complaint and he’s instantly more than convinced that it’s probably the latter option.

“Lay,” he speaks up, lifting his head completely to openly look at his secretary this time around. Yixing instantly lifts his head as well, looking at him in expectant silence, waiting for the command that will follow. “Can you go get us lunch from the Exki across the street? I’ll have their daily salad, get yourself whatever you want.” Reaching for his coat pocket, he pulls out his wallet and takes out his PIN free credit card to reach out to his secretary.

Yixing is up in a blink, coming over to take the credit card from him with both hands. Watching how the younger male walks out quickly, he lets out a soft sigh before turning his head back to his computer screen. All of a sudden, images of his dream from two days ago come back to mind and he grabs a tighter hold of his computer mouse in shock, staring blankly ahead of himself for a good minute before he can compose himself again.

He’s completely focused on his work by the time his secretary returns with their food, but when he looks up to see Yixing walking over to his desk with determined steps, he gets another flashback, this time causing him to close his eyes for a moment and let out a displeased grunt as he rubs his forehead. What the hell is he reliving those memories for now of all times? He’s attempting to create a situation in which he can have a proper conversation about his secretary’s living conditions, not be embarrassed about something the younger isn’t even aware of at all.

“Are you alright, sir?” Yixing questions him right at that moment and he looks up to smile at the other male.

“Yeah, fine, been staring at the computer screen for too long,” he quickly makes up the excuse, shaking his head and then reaching for the salad bowl Yixing holds out to him, along with his credit card. “Thanks,” he states, before motioning to the chairs on the other side of his desk. “Take a seat here, I’d like to talk to you.” Another image of his hands going for a belt buckle has him almost choke on his spit and as if to convince his own mind he pointedly adds: “About your home.”

.

He sits on his bed that evening with a whole new load of information about his secretary swirling around his mind. The unfairness of life is highlighted once more for him, but it just doesn’t seem to make sense that someone like the dependable, kind male he is currently the boss of gets so little while the very asshole-like, mediocre him gets all the things he’s currently possessing. The clock outside strikes midnight in the midst of his thoughts and he is reminded of the passing of time once more, since he’s sure it was ten pm just moments ago. But his thoughts go back to his secretary not long after and he sighs deeply once more.

With a mother gravely ill in the hospital and an apartment swarming with vermin, Yixing still manages to come to work looking like he’s living the same easy-going life he himself is. It makes him feel guilty for his luxuries, as well as it makes him feel bad about the younger male’s situation. And he’s glad that Yixing didn’t turn down his help when he offered to temporarily house him.

He’s glad they came to an agreement where Yixing will move in with him for the time being, paying a small amount of the rent for use of the guest room and bathroom. Even if he’s pretty sure the only reason his secretary took the deal was because he’d threatened to fire him if he wasn’t going to listen. And no matter how much he’d tried to state it as a joke, he still had hoped the threat would work. Which apparently it had, so from that weekend onwards, he would have another person living in his apartment with him.

He’s not sure what to think of it, but he’s glad he can at least get one person out of the vermin-filled hellhole he’s currently in. His mind decides that is a good moment to relive the moment when Yixing’s hands were going down over his pants and he sighs heavily into the quiet of his bedroom, wishing for the memories of that dream to just disappear into the void of his subconscious already. He doesn’t think they ever will, for some reason.


	2. Chapter 2

Yixing pulls his laughably small suitcase across the threshold of his boss’s apartment that particular Saturday with a feeling of regret. Because the moment he looks up, the spacious living room he can see from his position at the front door tells him he just entered a very luxurious apartment and all of a sudden he feels very much like he’s misusing an honest person’s kindness. Playing leach off of a wealthy, too-kind-for-his-own-good worker. Then again, his boss basically blackmailed him into moving into the apartment, threatening to fire him even if he would not comply. So it’s not actually his doing at all.

The thoughts only soothe him partly, but he doesn’t get time to regret his decision anymore because his boss walks in behind him carrying two of the three boxes of his stuff. Kris walks past him without hesitation, heading over to the hallway on the right and taking the left door which apparently leads them to his guest room. There, his boxes are put on the floor before his boss heads back to go get the last box from the hallway. He tentatively heads over to the guest room himself and places his suitcase next to the window.

Glancing through it, he is met with a clear view of the roofs of a couple of the neighbouring buildings, but even more so with the sight of a huge clock on the side of what he knows to be the town hall. Staring at it in surprise – he doesn’t think he’s ever seen a clock this big before in his life – he’s still standing at the window when his boss puts the third box down next to the other two. Yixing doesn’t even fully notice Kris coming to stand next to him until the taller man speaks up.

“Quite the sight, isn’t it?” He asks and Yixing looks up in surprise at the man next to him, nodding his head once because it is quite the sight, he can’t deny that in any language. “Don’t let it keep you up at night,” his boss adds before walking off to go close the entrance door, leaving Yixing to ponder over the meaning of those mysterious words. Why would the town hall clock keep him up at night? Probably the noise, he decides a moment later, and then turns away so he can get a tour around the rest of the top-floor apartment.

It consists of a kitchen adjacent to the living room which connects to the hallway he entered through a door. There’s four more doors in said hallway, two leading to the bedrooms, one to the bathroom and a last one to what Kris calls his ‘whatever needs a spot room’ which turns out to also double time as an office. Yixing’s told he can put whatever he doesn’t have space for in his bedroom in that room as well. Upon his question if his boss moved in only recently because of the boxes in said room, Kris’ face turns the usual distant and cold in an instant.

“Don’t mind them,” is the reply he gets and his boss stalks off to his own bedroom which closes with a decisive thud. Yixing is left staring at the doorway the taller male just went through, wondering what it was he said wrong this time to make his host run off like that. He hopes Kris doesn’t change his mind now and kicks him out again, because he did as his boss had told him and has already ended his rent agreement with his previous landlord.

.

Two in the morning reveals to Yixing what his boss’s words meant when he’s sitting on his bed staring at the clock, trying to figure out why the hands don’t ever seem to move even though plenty of time has already passed. He’s thinking of his mother, mostly, and the pile of hospital bills he’ll have to find money for again at the end of the month, but every now and again he blinks and consciously looks at the time display, only to find minutes have passed but he hasn’t been aware of it.

He decides to get up and grab himself a glass of water, in hopes of being able to sleep afterwards. When he comes out of his room, however, he’s met with light coming from underneath the living room door, indicating his boss is still awake. He swallows once, thinks better of his initial decision and heads over to the bathroom instead. Making use of the toilet first, he decides to get himself a drink straight from the tap. When he heads back to his room after, the light in the living room is off, but he still retreats to his room quietly without setting foot near the kitchen.

When he wakes the next Sunday, the apartment is quiet and seems empty. It’s only when he checks every room an hour later before he leaves for the hospital that he finds Kris, seated at the desk in the leftovers room. When he greets his boss a good morning, the man looks up at him in surprise, seeming to remember only then himself that he’s let another person into his house. Yixing sends him a quick goodbye, stating he’s going to visit his mother, which only earns him a nod in reply.

He returns in the evening to find dinner waiting for him, a series of microwave meals in the freezer ready to be heated. He also finds his boss a little later, once again in the leftovers room, this time fast asleep, head resting on his arms on the desk. He doesn’t try to wake him up nor does he do anything else, instead he just walks back to the kitchen and starts on his meal. It’s surprisingly good despite the fact it’s a supermarket microwave meal, but probably the best part of it is that he can enjoy it without any vermin trying to get its bite from it as well.

.

One week in, Yixing makes an extensive trip to the supermarket after visiting his mother on Saturday. Kris looks at him like he’s just brought aliens in when he enters the apartment with the wide array of grocery bags in hand, but he gets up when Yixing forays into the kitchen to help him store everything away. That evening they have home-made dinner and his boss looks like he hasn’t had anything like it in years. He doesn’t know how close that is to the truth.

They end the evening with a glass of wine in the couch – one of Kris’ habits, it appears – where his boss asks him about his mother. The question takes him by surprise, his insides withering when he is reminded of his mother, who is wilting away in a hospital bed. All their expensive treatment does not seem like it is doing her any good and still they require him to keep paying it. He manages, albeit barely, so that is not the problem, the problem is that he is not managing as well to see his mother slowly slip away.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Kris speaks again when he remains quiet and Yixing can’t even manage in that moment to tell him it’s fine. His eyes, he notices a split second later, are brimming with tears he usually manages to keep at bay, but for some reason right in that crucial moment his ability to keep his head up seems to have left him. “I’m sorry, Lay.” The cursed English name reminds him he is not at home at all, but somehow it does help him regain his control as well.

“It’s fine,” he utters then, nodding his head. “Don’t worry about it, sir.” He pauses a moment after hearing the formal term he is so used to add to his sentences when he’s talking to Kris. Somehow it still feels more comfortable to address his boss like that, but apparently the taller male has a different opinion on that.

“You can just call me Kris,” he is told almost gruffly, so he nods in response. “I’m sorry about your mother. I hope the treatment kicks in soon.” Which is not something it will do, but Yixing takes the kind words with another nod. “If you need some time off from work just tell me, alright?” It’s the first time since they’re in the couch that Yixing looks up when those words sound and he makes eye-contact with the tall male across from him hesitantly. Kris’ gaze is strong and pierces right through him it seems, determination edged into every line of the older male’s face. He can do nothing but agree and it’s only when he does that the expression softens slightly and Kris turns away again to take another sip of wine.

.

It takes a couple of weeks before Yixing starts to notice his boss is not as stone cold as he has always presumed the elder to be. He finds Kris asleep in random places more often whenever he comes home from his visits to the hospital but never once tries to wake him up, instead just going to the kitchen to make dinner for the both of them. Every Thursday afternoon the cleaning lady breezes through the apartment and he comes home to a full fridge, a clean space and a perfectly made bed. He feels like he’s in a hotel with the great service and gladly collapses on the freshly smelling sheets after dinner. Kris is never home on Thursday evenings.

One day when he moves his last box with stuff to the leftovers room so he can set up a small computer space in his bedroom, he finds one of his boss’s boxes lying on the floor against the wall, clearly having been thrown against the side and having slid down from there. A couple of papers have slipped out as well. He puts his own box aside and moves to clean up the mess, but before he can even reach it, Kris’ voice sounds up from the doorway.

“Leave it.” He looks up to see a dark expression on his boss’s face and decides to do exactly as told, leaving the room. The next day the leftovers room holds one box less. He starts to feel like an intruder into the private parts of his boss’s life when he notices a couple other things seem to have been taken out of the room as well. He decides to just not go into the room again, to leave Kris more space for himself.

His whole view on his boss changes when one morning on the way to work, Kris pulls over to walk up to a couple of young girls selling waffles at the side of the road. Yixing stays in the car, but reads their sign telling the passing people that the income of their sale will go to a nearby animal shelter. They continue their trip not long after with a trunk filled with all the waffles the girls had, which Kris brings up to the office to hand out to their colleagues.

Watching them all thank him with bright smiles and seeing the smile he gives them in return, Yixing has to conclude that his boss just really doesn’t like him because he’s never been smiled at like that. Except that one time when he’d been offered a ride home and he told the older male stories about his life growing up with a single, Chinese mother. He is even more convinced now that his boss’s offer of moving in and sharing rent must have been nothing more than a spur of the moment. One Kris is probably regretting by now.

.

“You can make yourself at home, you know.” Kris startles him by suddenly speaking up over dinner after a little over a month of sharing the apartment. “Feel free to sit in the living room with your computer or watch TV or something. You don’t have to stay in the bedroom all the time.” The look he’s fixated with seems to judge him for his decision to try and stay out of his boss’s way during the time he’s spending in the apartment. “Really,” Kris continues. “You don’t have to feel like you’re staying at my place. You’re paying rent too, just make yourself at home.”

He doesn’t consider the two hundred dollars a month worthy of the name ‘rent’ especially not since Kris probably still pays five times as much to cover the rest of the actual rent, but doesn’t dare to go against his boss’s words. He mutters an agreement before continuing to eat, but that doesn’t seem to pacify the older male this time around.

“I’m serious. Are you really agreeing? I never can see with you whether you’re just agreeing out of politeness or whether you’re really okay with what I’m telling you.” It’s probably the most Kris has said to him outside of work-related matters and Yixing needs a moment to process what exactly is coming out of his boss’s mouth. “Just treat me like the person you’re sharing an apartment with and stop addressing me like your boss even when we’re at home. Just relax here. We’re two guys among each other and that’s it.”

The meaning of the words is nice. The tone they’re spoken in, however, makes Yixing feel like he’s being reprimanded for doing something wrong. He finishes chewing his food and swallows it before looking up at the person across from him. Kris is looking at him intently and he feels the scrutinising gaze all the way to the tips of his toes. Before either of them can say anything else, however, Kris’ phone rings. Yixing recognises the ringtone and knows it’s his boss’s father calling. Kris doesn’t even fully look down as he rejects the call. The rest of dinner is silent again.

.

From then on, Yixing starts to act more like he would if he really were at home. He turns on the TV sometimes when he gets home in the evening and watches both the news as well as some of the stupidest cartoons the world has ever made. They make him laugh. Kris spends most of his time at home either in his bedroom or in the leftovers room, so Yixing isn’t quite sure why he was being judged on doing the same, but the longer he acts like it’s his home, the more he feels like it and the less heavy the burden is on his shoulders.

It comes back in tenfold when one day the doorbell rings and Yixing almost mindlessly goes to open the door, expecting it to be another delivery for his boss. He is faced with someone that takes him only half a second to recognise; Li Zhao Peng, the CEO of a huge conglomerate that rakes in billions a year, most probably. It’s only when Kris shows up behind him and addresses the senior male with ‘father’ that Yixing fully realises exactly who his boss is. Leaving the conversation to the two family members, he quietly sneaks away to his bedroom, considering a lifetime spent underneath the covers of his bed to never live through an awkward moment like that again.

Kris enters his room fifteen minutes later after a quick knock. He looks up at the door when it opens, instantly noticing the deep frown that hasn’t entirely cleared from his boss’s forehead, but doesn’t even dare speak a word for fear of having that frown get directed at him personally. So he just sits there and looks at Kris from over the screen of his laptop, taking in the way his boss is clearly taking him in, as if trying to gauge his reaction. He’s not sure whether Kris is trying to see if he’s okay or if he’s really as big of an idiot as he has just made himself look.

“I’m sorry about that,” is what eventually comes out of his boss’s mouth and Yixing starts to realise most of what Kris says to him within the four walls of the apartment are either apologies or orders. “Are you alright?” A strange question, considering all he has done is open the door and then sneak away as quickly as possible, but he nods his head regardless.

“Yes, I’m fine, thank you,” he replies politely, watching how the frown clears completely and therefore mastering the courage to add: “You?” For a moment Kris seems stunned, as if he had not expected that question in a million years, but then his expression takes on another frown and Yixing instantly regrets asking.

“Yeah, I’m good.” Yixing sees his boss swallow heavily next, giving him the feeling that Kris isn’t being entirely honest, but it’s not his position to reprimand him. “Let’s order in pizza tonight, that okay with you?” Kris asks next and Yixing can do nothing other than nod. Besides, pizza does sound like a good idea. It has been ages since he’s had any, too.

.

That night, one thirty AM has him watching the clock from his bed, his mind reminiscing the past evening. Especially the part where Kris had eaten his pizza in an almost eerie silence while sitting in the couch in front of the TV. Only to announce he was going to bed the moment he’d finished his last slice, which was several hours before his usual sleeping time. Greeting the tall man with a goodnight in return, Yixing had been left sitting in the couch by himself, wondering about Kris’ sudden dark mood.

The first slither of worry hits him that night at one thirty-six in the morning, when he can hear the door across from his open, Kris’ footsteps leading from the bedroom towards the leftovers room. It’s not long after that the sound of a muffled cry reaches him across the complete silence of the apartment and when the sound of it sets every ounce of protectiveness inside of him ablaze, he knows he’s screwed. It’s not a conscious decision he makes to get up and exit his own room as well, but he only realises what he’s doing when his feet have already brought him to the door of the leftovers room, which is left ajar.

There’s no more crying sounds and he half-thinks he’s imagined it all, but the difficult intake of breath suddenly sounding up tells him he was right all along. He swallows heavily, looking at the modern door for a moment longer before gently pushing it open a little and taking half a step further inside. All sound ceases to exist for a long moment and he can imagine it’s his boss’s shock over someone else being in the room with him during a weak moment. But all Yixing can think is that sometimes people need someone else to be there the most on their weak moments.

“Are you alright, Kris?” He questions, the sound of name feels foreign on his tongue but he doesn’t stop to dwell on that piece of information, instead intently listening to any kind of reply. There is a long bout of silence but Yixing doesn’t leave, deciding that if Kris wants him to go he’ll be ordered to do so soon enough and if he doesn’t, he will gladly give the taller male all the time he needs to gather his words.

“It’s keeping you up too, is it?” Kris questions eventually, voice rough. But when the older male gets up and walks more towards Yixing, he sees it’s not from crying like he earlier expected. Instead Kris looks livid, ready to kill even, and Yixing has to adjust his memories to turn what he had thought to be a muffled cry of pain into one of frustration and anger. For some reason he also thinks that if he would turn on the light he might find another box thrown against the wall. “I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” he is told next and Kris easily slides past him in the space that’s left between him and the doorpost.

He thinks that’s it, because there is no way in the world his angry boss is going to urge any more words out him. Perhaps he will even be fired in the next couple of moments, he doesn’t put it past the taller male at this point in time. Especially when he’s in such a mood. But instead of any of that, Kris’ voice sounds up from the kitchen a moment later, already much less heavy with emotion, luckily. “You want a glass of water too?”

.

One particular day, Yixing walks into the office after having gone to get his lunch from the cafeteria only to be faced with the sight of his boss sitting slightly hunched in his chair. His elbows are on the table and he’s resting his head in his hands. The most shocking part, however, hits him when a movement goes through Kris’ body, revealing that this time he is really crying. It takes a full two seconds for Yixing to notice, but then he slams down the button to close the blinds, steps right back out of the office and pulls the door closed along with him.

He has lunch in the cafeteria that day and purposefully stays away for a solid hour before returning to their floor. By then the door to the office is open again, although the blinds are still down. Yixing decides to take the risk and heads over to go inside. His boss doesn’t even look up when he enters the room, but he looks every bit and scrap the talented businessman he has always looked like, so Yixing figures everything’s back under control. He goes over to his own desk and continues working like nothing ever happened. Kris doesn’t mention it either.

It’s when he gets home that evening to a freshly made bed – and it shouldn’t be so easy to call the apartment home, because he’s only staying there temporarily, he keeps trying to remind himself – that he realises it’s Thursday, which means any conversation there could have been will not happen that night. Somehow it bums him, but at the same time he is relieved that he can’t be told that whatever understanding they’ve got going on ends here and now. He remembers once again that he’s only able to live in a prestigious apartment like this one for as long as he remains in his boss’s good graces, and he’s starting to feel like they won’t stay much longer if he keeps messing in things he should just stay the heck out of.

He’s watching TV not half an hour after getting home, when the front door opens and Kris enters the apartment building as well. It surprises him so much that he’s left staring at the living door all the way until the taller male appears in it. They make eye contact, just a split second before it surprisingly is Kris who looks away, but Yixing can’t turn his own gaze back to the TV, too nervous about what might happen to him in the following couple minutes. The silence between them stretches on for a couple of minutes before eventually Kris lifts his head again.

“Thanks,” Yixing is then told and his relief is instant. “For earlier.” That seem to be about all the words his boss is going to spill on the matter, however, because after another second of eye contact, Kris nods and turns away to head over to his own bedroom. Yixing stares after him a full minute before he remembers he was watching TV and turns his head back to the device to see how much of the movie he was watching he’s missed and if he can still make sense of the storyline by then.

.

“Also send an e-mail to the head of ReFurb, tell them we’re waiting for their order and ask if something has happened for it to be three weeks late.” Kris is summing up all the e-mails he still needs to send that day and Yixing is actually glad about it because he’s been so neck-deep in reports that he didn’t even have the time to check through the mailbox and tick off what still needed doing. He’s quickly scribbling Chinese onto a post it to keep track of all the things that are being mentioned. “Do it politely, of course,” is added as an afterthought.

“When you’re done with that, you can go.” Time stops, his whole body freezes, the pen is stuck at the same point on the post it note, Yixing slowly looks up across the desks to look at his boss. It’s only a couple of seconds later that Kris lifts his head to look at him too, perhaps aware of being stared at, or maybe just aware of the complete and utter silence. They look at each other for a moment, Yixing still in shock, Kris a little confused, before his boss seems to catch the problem. “Visit your mother. You’ve done plenty of overtime by now to leave earlier sometimes. It’s her birthday, isn’t it?”

Yixing nods blankly, staring at Kris for a couple of moments longer in complete and utter surprise. Before he can fully process the fact that his boss is being extremely nice to him again that day, the taller male even flashes him a knowing smile. “You should spend plenty of time with her today. Wish her a happy birthday from me too, will you?” Another mindless nod before Kris turns his attention back to his computer screen. Yixing needs a little longer to get back to work but at least manages to do so within a proper time span.

Right after lunch, his boss walks back into the office and places a gift basket on his table. “Here. For your mother,” is what the explanation for it is. Yixing looks over at it to see one of the fanciest gift baskets he’s ever seen in his life, all wrapped up and pretty-looking with a get well soon card hanging off of the front.

“Thank you, sir,” he manages to utter, overwhelmed by the kind gesture as well as by the way everything about a gift basket can apparently scream expensive. “I’ll let her know it’s yours.” Which is a stupid thing to say, because obviously the card will give that away, but he doesn’t take time to think about that horrible blunder. Instead he gets right back to typing up all the e-mails that still needed sending as well as replies to some of the people that have already replied him back since morning.

At two pm, Kris looks up from his desk and Yixing is looking at his computer screen but he is vibrantly aware of the gaze that rests upon him. “Leave the rest of those mails to me, Yixing, pack your things and go.” Another jolt of irrational fear rushes through him before he remembers that Kris is not talking about him losing his job in any way but is simply telling him to go spend time with his mother. He finishes up the mail he’s typing quickly but efficiently after which he clears out pretty quickly.

“Thank you, sir,” he repeats himself again on the way out. “I’ll see you tonight.” Words that are true, but didn’t necessarily have to be spoken aloud, Yixing realises when he’s already as good as making a run for the elevator. Because nothing sounds more homey and comfortable than that and no two people were ever any less homey and comfortable while living in the same house than the two of them. He should make work of finding a new place, but he knows everything cheap is as crap as his last one or worse and he just doesn’t want to do that to himself when he can live in a luxurious duplex apartment instead.

.

It’s only a couple days after that wonderful day he spent together with his mother eating and drinking the expensive stuff out of his boss’s gift basket that Yixing exits the elevator at home only to instantly hear loud voices coming from inside the apartment. He halts in his step, freezes in place even, as he listens to the loud, angry sounds. Because he can’t make out any words, he just hears the anger straight through the apartment’s walls.

He stands there frozen in place for several long minutes, but right as he’s about to move – either further towards the apartment or back to the elevator he hasn’t entirely decided yet – the sounds come closer towards him. His flight instinct kicks in instantly, but before he can even make it to any remote place – the elevator takes time to come back up to the top floor – the front door of the apartment opens and mister Wu senior paces outside with a face set on destruction. When his eyes catch sight of Yixing, he stops in his tracks and turns every bit of attention in the world to him, or at least that’s what it feels like.

Before a word can even leave the man’s lips, Yixing feels how a hand touches his upper arm and the next moment his line of sight on Wu senior is blocked by a certain mister Wu junior. He looks up – and up – until he meets Kris’ eyes, expecting there to be the rage he’d witnessed in the middle of the night one time, but instead he is met with an almost vulnerable expression and for a split second he swears he can see years of misery intricately detailed in the depths of his boss’s eyes.

“Go on inside,” Kris tells him and the moment passes when the hand on his arm gently urges him towards the apartment. His brain processes the words only when the apartment door closes behind him, realising how much they resembled another one of the usual orders, but the tone of voice they had been said in was more like a request. In fact, it sounded as if Kris had quietly begged him to leave the hallway and enter the safe confines of the apartment. He’s more than glad to be out of harm’s way, but the moment the sound of a muffled, angry voice reaches him again, the worry hits him full force once more.

He waits in the hallway with his briefcase in hand, shoes still on, work outfit still properly fitted around him and his eyes on the apartment door until it eventually opens. His boss stops dead in his tracks when he sees him, apparently not at all having expected him there. Yixing doesn’t know why he does what he does but he puts down the briefcase and walks over to the taller male. He’s not exactly sure what he’s going to do when he reaches the older male, but Kris seems to shrink in size with every step he takes closer and so he just wraps his arms around him securely.

Nothing happens for a moment and he’s about to start feeling really awkward and stupid when all of a sudden the tall figure of his boss seems to crumble, coming apart against him. There’s a head on his shoulder not long after and although no arms are wrapped around him – luckily, he thinks he will probably have disappeared in them entirely – it’s not hard to notice that Kris is more than alright with the hugging thing he decided to go for. When eventually the tall male straightens, not a word is said by him as he disappears off into his bedroom.

.

“Do you even speak? Like a normal person, I mean?” Yixing bellows – literally bellows – Sunday evening of that same week. “Or do you always exchange nothing but apologies and orders with the people you live with?” Kris is standing a couple of feet away from him, looking at him with wide eyes, clearly not having seen any of this coming. Yixing didn’t either, he has to admit, but for some reason shouting like that just feels freeing. Like he’s been trying to mould himself so he could fit whatever space he was allowed to occupy, but now he’s just occupying whatever space he needs.

“If this is the kind of person you are, it wouldn’t surprise me if your ex-girlfriend committed suicide.” He’s taking it a gazillion steps too far, roaming into territory that is not his to thread upon, but he’s past the point of caring. The stress of the last couple of months has taken its toll and no matter how much the darkening of his boss’s expression would usually make him fear for his job or living space – or both – he can’t even be bothered to lower his voice this time around.

“Just talk to me like a goddamn person! Because I am, did you know that? I am a person, I have feelings!” He lifts an arm, points towards the living room door and subsequently also the apartment’s front door. “First you threaten me by taking away my job if I don’t come to live here and then you continue on for several long winding months to make this new living space a hell to live in. Is it fun? Do you get off on that?” He’s breathing heavily, the anger of the whole world residing inside of his chest in that instance, or at least that’s what it feels like, and Kris still stands a couple of feet away, not moving, unchanging.

“Do you enjoy watching people feel small and insignificant? Is that it? Do you enjoy watching people cower in front of you? Do you enjoy holding them in the palm of your hand with the ability to crush them whenever you want? I bet you do. I bet you’ve been having the time of your life! Didn’t you? Didn’t you, you fucking asshole!?” Kris still remains unmoving so the next thing that comes out of him is a series of Chinese curses and swearwords that he would never be caught dead using anywhere near his mother, but he can’t manage to give a shit about that anymore.

“Yixing,” is what he hears first and he manages to see past the blinding rage how his boss has finally put himself into motion, closing in on him. He wants to shout more profanities, but the arms do wrap around him this time and he is pulled into a solid hug which keeps him from speaking for a moment long. “I’m sorry,” Kris continues and he almost scoffs because what do you know, another apology, but his eyes fall on the clock he can even see through the living room window and his breath hitches. “I’m sorry she died.”

His world comes apart.


	3. Chapter 3

Five long, dull chimes announce to the world another hour has passed and it’s another hour closer to sunrise. He sits in his couch for a change, which he has turned slightly so he’d have a view on the window. He watches the dimly lit clock until the last sound of its announcement has died away, then takes another swig from his beer. Usually he drinks wine in the evenings, but that night beer had seemed much more appropriate. Having been able to chug down five of them without trouble, he’s glad he made the decision.

Tearing his gaze away from the clock at the sound of the toilet flushing, he is reminded of the painful events of earlier that evening, when his flatmate had come home after a long day at the hospital. He’d gotten the news that Yixing’s mother had died from Human Resources, who had told him that it was possible his secretary wouldn’t be showing on Monday. But even if he hadn’t gotten that phone call, he would’ve been able to guess it from the look on the younger male’s face when he entered the living room.

He’d gotten up to greet him, to pass on his condolences but for some reason once he’d started with “I’m sorry,” Yixing had started shouting at him. Grief, he brushed it off to. But the words the shorter male hurled at him several long hours before still play around in his head. Yixing accused him of several things he never even though he was doing, but apparently the past couple of months in which they’ve been living together have been experienced very differently by the both of them. He knows that now.

He watches how Yixing enters the living room again and follows the younger male’s movements all the way back to the couch. When his flatmate picks up his bottle of beer again to continue drinking, he feels inclined to say something, but doesn’t know what he should be saying. He’s more than aware of how much his mother meant to his flatmate and he doesn’t know if the other male will ever be able to get over her loss. Especially because he’s been paying thousands – and is still paying off thousands – for all the treatments that eventually didn’t work anyway. He knows he would be mad.

“You really think I’m purposefully making your life a living hell?” He questions after a little while of silence has settled between them. It makes his flatmate look up. He waits with bathed breath for the reply, afraid that Yixing might only say yes without explaining, but afraid that he might explain all the more. He shares several long seconds of eye contact with his flatmate and realises in the middle of it that he hasn’t ever looked at him for this long in one go. He’s not sure if the younger male is even aware of that.

“I think you’ve got serious issues, dude, you know that?” The answer should be offending, he figures, but it doesn’t make him angry at all. He doesn’t think there’s anything Yixing could say that night that would make him angry. Even after being up for over twenty hours. “You treat everyone like your friends except for me and I don’t even think you notice. Whenever you see your dad you get angry, but you never tell him not to show up anymore. You ask some random stranger to move in with you then spend the next couple months hardly talking to him at all.”

His eyes catch on to how Yixing shrugs, clearly unloading that whole burden off his own shoulders. “But hey, whatever makes you sleep at night, man. Who am I to judge?” He likes Yixing drunk, he decides a moment later as their eye contact ends after his flatmate raises his bottle of beer at him. The younger male is no longer continuously polite but just straightforward honest and it’s refreshing to hear what someone thinks of him, no filters at all. “Just stop dragging me into your shit, would you? I’ve got enough problems of my own. If you don’t want to talk to me then stop playing the good, blackmailing Samaritan and let me just find a different place.”

For some reason those words make him feel afraid.

.

The light coming through the office window seems extremely bright that afternoon, but then maybe that’s because he didn’t get a wink of sleep the night before. Yixing’s squinting just as much as he is on the other side of the office, though, so he doesn’t feel too bad about his current state. He’d offered his secretary a day off, but the male had refused, stating he needed something to keep busy with. He understands that more than anyone, so he didn’t try to stop the younger male from coming along at all despite the fact that Yixing’s probably still a little hungover.

“The people from Arcorp sent us another request,” his secretary starts speaking moments later and he instantly opens the e-mail account on his own computer to check it out. “It’s signed by the CEO himself. They’re trying to get the price lowered. Again.” He can’t help but huff in amusement when the ‘again’ comes out of Yixing’s mouth with the eye roll almost audible in it. “It’s too bad I’m not allowed to swear at our associates or I would have told him to shove it a long time ago.”

“Yixing,” he states in a warning tone, but the grin on his own face kind of takes away the impact. How can he scold his secretary for something he’s doing himself anyway? “Just send back that we’re not lowering the price and tell them too that we’re not going to allow them a delay in payment either. If they want it, they’re going to have to pay for it straight up this time. I’m tired of striking deals with them. If they can’t deliver they’re just going to have to…” He pauses a moment and his grin widens momentarily. “Shove it.”

He feels more than accomplished when an actual laugh gets pulled from his secretary at his last words. “Kris,” is what the younger male tells him in the same warning tone as he had used just moments earlier and he grins brightly at the male across from him. “Got it, cap’n,” he states in amusement. “No more insulting the associates when they’re not present.” Yixing is chuckling again on the other side of the office and he happily goes back to his earlier business as well, until a thought hits him and makes him instantly look up again.

“You’re not going to actually tell them to shove it, are you?” He instantly questions, all sobered up. Because maybe his partly hungover secretary will do so in a spur of the moment and he definitely does not need an angry associate on his back. Yixing looks up at him as well when he says that, just staring at him blankly a moment before bursting out into another laugh. “Course I was,” is the reply he gets, followed by “Sh-ov-e it, exclamation point” in the rhythm of the younger male’s typing with a definitive clicking sound. “There we go, that’s sent.”

“If that e-mail actually reads ‘Shove it’ I am going to put mustard over all your dumplings,” he threatens, but the grin is still present on his face. Yixing doesn’t even look up from the computer screen, yet still manages to aim a middle finger at him nonetheless. It makes him snort, then laugh. “Right back at you,” he counters, as he opens the e-mail his secretary has just sent to see if it is ended in a proper manner.

.

What haunts him all the way home from work and even into bed is the words Yixing says to him before the younger leaves to go deal with the funeral services. “Who knew all it takes to turn you into a normal human being is a couple of beers, huh?” It reminds him of something his ex-girlfriend said to him too, during one of the fights they’d had. One of the who knows how many. “The only time you ever show care is when you’re horribly sad or horribly drunk.” It had been followed by a series of profanities he does remember but doesn’t like to relive, after which she’d given him the finishing blow with: “You’re just like your father, you are! Two of a kind! Your mother was right!”

He spent the following years proving to her, himself and anyone witnessing that she was wrong, but perhaps she’s been right all along. Amicable man around strangers, horribly cold rock when it comes to the people he supposedly cares about. Even worse to people he dislikes. With his ex-girlfriend having said that and now his flatmate telling him the same thing, he can’t help but consider the reality of it. What if he is like his father? What if he is making Yixing’s life a living hell, all without realising it?

There’s no answer to his question, except for the fact that the younger male has experienced it like that over the past couple of months and has told him so. He feels bad, all of a sudden, for all the shit he must have put his secretary through while his only intention had been to try and help the other. While anything he’d done so far had been to try and help the other. He’d offered him a better place to live, had tried his best to allow him to feel at home, had stayed out of his way at all times, …But apparently he shouldn’t do those things then, he should be more of ‘a normal human being.’

Funny, he thinks as he’s starting to doze off due to the severe lack of sleep, how he doesn’t even know what that means exactly.

.

“Okay, but, consider this,” Yixing is reasoning with him as to whether the Clippers or the Lakers are better. His flatmate is on the side of the Clippers, but has no actual basketball knowledge to support his claims. Nor does the younger male know a damn thing about basketball at all, is what he thinks. “They’ve got a lot of tall, muscular guys, they’re sure to win.” The comment makes him guffaw, gaze going over to his companion with a hint of disbelief to it.

“So do the Lakers,” he counters the comment. “So does pretty much every basketball team.” His flatmate gives him a sour look and shakes his head.

“Go grab another beer, you’re turning into an asshole again,” is what he’s told, but he knows it’s a joke and it only makes him laugh once again.

“Yeah, I think you’re pretty dumb too,” he counters and watches how Yixing fake-clutches at his chest.

“Right in the feels,” his flatmate deadpans and he laughs again. Before he can comment any further, however, someone comes to talk to his companion so he gets up to give them some privacy.

His eyes go over the people he passes on his way to the table with food and drinks. There’s plenty of them at the wake, more so than he thought would have come by, but clearly his secretary’s mother was well-connected – and well-loved. He feels bad, that a well-liked person like her had to go while there’s rich asses still walking around freely. He doesn’t try very hard not to think of his father when he’s making the comparison.

He spends the rest of his time roaming around the funeral home while Yixing humours each and every single one of the guests with conversation and listening to their stories of the deceased. He tries not to think too much of the alikeness this situation holds to what he has gone through when his own mother died and barely manages to hold back the tears thanks to another portion of well-catered food.

.

“You didn’t have to stay all the way through, you know.” It’s the first thing that is being said between them since they got into the car after the wake to head to the funeral. By now they’re hours later and he wasn’t even thinking of the long hours he spent just watching people being sad over someone he hadn’t even ever met. He feels bad about that now, that he never got to actually meet Yixing’s mother, although she has nothing to do with him in reality.

“I know,” he replies, passing another cold beer over to his flatmate and taking a seat again in the couch next to him. “Didn’t want you to have to ride public transport after that.” It’s the simplest of terms he could use to explain why he had stuck around a funeral of someone completely unrelated to him. “Also wanted to give you an excuse in case you wanted to bail out before it was over.” He remembers how he would’ve killed for that when his own mother had died. Yixing snorts.

“Bail out? On my mother’s funeral?” his flatmate inquires, sounding incredulous. “Wow, usually beer makes you a better person, but today you beat yourself on the inhumanity part.” It’s a stab that hits so low he feels himself grow cold all over for a moment, but then his body temperature settles again and he turns to look over at the younger male next to him in the couch. Yixing is eyeing him with an amused expression, clearly not having been entirely serious with his earlier words.

“Just… I would’ve liked it to be able to get away from all the prying eyes back then,” he tries to defend himself weakly, before shrugging his shoulders. “But well, you and I are not alike at all, that’s a given.” He raises his beer in salute at the other male, before emptying all of its remaining contents into his mouth. Pushing himself up from the couch, he makes a vague hand motion at his flatmate that could mean anything. “I’m going to catch some sleep. G’night.”

He barely catches the salute Yixing gives him in return with his own bottle, simply goes to put his own away in the glass container in the kitchen and then heads for his bedroom. He doesn’t think his interactions with the younger male are ever going to get any better than this, but there is still a sliver of hope inside of him somewhere. The way Yixing’s door closes with a louder bang than usual that night doesn’t do anything to help him out, though.

.

His heart comes to an almost complete stop when the hand in his side slides downwards to sneak under his shirt and then moves back up, fingers gingerly gliding over the skin of his stomach. His abs have become noticeable again what with all the healthy, home-cooked meals he’s been eating and the occasional workout he does in the confines of his bedroom, but they definitely weren’t ready yet for a grand reveal such as this one. Although he doesn’t quite know why his brain is so focused on the physical state of his abdomen when there is, once again, someone all over him.

This time around, however, they’re in his bedroom at home and he’s in his sleeping slacks, but Yixing is just as adamant as the first time. They’re kissing, he knows because the other hand is solidly placed on the back of his neck and keeping his head down. Not that he couldn’t fight it off if he wanted to straighten up, but he doesn’t. He just stays in the hold and allows the shorter male to keep him at an easy kissing distance. His hands hesitate only a moment longer before they, too, take hold of the other male’s body and pull him closer.

It takes him a couple more messily placed kisses to get the rhythm and he leans in a little closer out of his own accord the moment the shorter male’s tongue comes in contact with his lips. It’s not long before he’s moving, pushing against the male in his hold and making him walk backwards until the both of them are out of the sight of the window, pressed against the wall almost in the corner of his room, hands still roaming over each other’s upper body. He’s trying to figure out where this dream is going to take him, but doesn’t try too hard because he doesn’t want to wake up from it yet.

Which is exactly the thought that makes him wake from his reverie, fully aware of what is going on. He suddenly remembers waking to a knock on his door and realises with a start that that means he is not at all dreaming. Instantly he pulls backwards, too shocked by such a revelation to continue what he was doing, no matter how much he wanted it to keep going just moments before. Admitting that to himself is still something entirely different from actually doing it in reality.

Yixing looks at him from his position still against the wall in the corner of his room. They’re both breathing heavily, he knows because he can see his flatmate’s chest rise and fall with the effort of it. But contrary to him, Yixing is not staring in wide-eyed shock, instead the younger male looks rather out of it, as if still too overwhelmed by what had just happened to be able to process it and his current situation. As if drunk as fuck.

He doesn’t know what to do so he does what he’s most comfortable with; he bolts. Turns around on his heels and exits the room in a swift half-run, uttering a half-assed “Goodnight” as he goes. He heads into his extra room and closes the door behind him, locking it out of an instinct the moment he’s inside. His own erratic breathing is the only sound around him for a long time and he needs a long moment to come to terms with what has just been going on in his own bedroom. He definitely was completely okay with kissing a guy, that much is clear to him, but how on earth had he gotten in that position? And why on earth was that particular guy kissing him?

When he slowly emerges from his hideout at least a good hour later, all the lights are off and Yixing’s bedroom door is closed again, so he quickly heads back to his own room to barricade himself inside of it for the remainder of the night.

.

“Kris!? Kris, wake up, it’s time for work!” The loud voice wakes him from his dreamless state, causing him to open his eyes and stare at the ceiling. “How drunk did you get last night, dude? Get the hell up, we’re going to be late! Or if you want me to take the public transport, just tell me, I don’t mind.” He groans to himself at the insistent headache that seems to settle behind his eyes the moment he opens them before trying to decipher what his flatmate’s words mean.

It comes back to him in a flash of clarity and panic, before he starts to process what Yixing’s saying. How drunk did _he_ get? Had it been a dream again after all? He pushes himself into an upright position and then moves to get out of bed. Ignoring the continued calling of his name, he slowly makes his way over to the door so he can unlock it. The moment the lock clicks out of place, Yixing’s voice silences and he feels extremely relieved about that as he pulls open the door slowly.

“Holy…” Yixing utters the moment they come face to face and he doesn’t want to imagine what it is he must look like for his flatmate to respond like that. “What the hell did you do last night?” There’s a moment of thick silence hanging between them before Yixing seems to realise there is not going to be much conversation to be had with him today. But when the shorter male speaks again, his insides turn to ice once more. “Did I do that to you? Shit…” He tries to figure out why Yixing would say something like that, but the other male starts to explain himself before he even has to ask.

“Look, I’m sorry. It was a crap day, I got real drunk, I shouldn’t have done that. I know I stepped over a bunch of boundaries and I apologise for that. If you want me to move out, I will.” He’s still just looking at his flatmate’s face, taking in the details, the worry he can see there as well as the guilt. He’s trying to piece everything together, trying to find the reasons for why he did what he did, but he comes up blank, just a little more of an intense headache richer.

“How did you know I was going to be okay with it?” He asks it in a hoarse voice and clears his throat out of a reflex when he hears the sound himself. Yixing blanches for a moment, the first sign of distress he sees in his secretary’s face since he met him, probably, but then appears to control himself again. He doesn’t know how the younger has such great control over himself. He obviously doesn’t have such composure himself with the way he’s looking right now.

“I didn’t,” is the initial response he gets, and he tries to wrap his mind around why someone would kiss someone else when they’re not even sure the other one would be okay with it. “I had my suspicions but I only knew for sure when you kissed back, really. I honestly was too drunk to care, though.” It’s Yixing’s turn to clear his throat and he looks at his flatmate with a whole new set of eyes. He leaves a moment of silence, tries to gather all his thoughts on the matter and then just sighs heavily.

“I’ll get dressed, give me a couple of minutes.”

.

The road to work passes in silence, work passes in silence, the road home from work passes in silence. So does the elevator ride up, dinner and even dessert. He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know where to go from that point in his life where he has spent a good five minutes making out in his bedroom with a guy. It’s not that he feels conflicted about the guy part, just surprised. He’s always kind of known that gender didn’t play as much of a role in his care for people as it seemed to do for most others. He just also never thought for some reason that he would go for a guy for real at some point. Stereotypes, he presumes.

“Look, Kris, if this really bothers you so much I’ll go,” Yixing speaks up when he’s about to walk out of the living room to head to his bedroom. He stops dead in his tracks and turns around so he can face his flatmate. “I’ve almost finished paying off my mother’s bills, I can manage again now to rent my own apartment. I’ll get to finding another job, it’s going to be two weeks at most that I’ll still be around.” The words make the hairs in his neck rise and he lets out a choked sound which is enough to shut his flatmate up and make the younger male look at him in surprise.

“I-” he starts, then thinks better of what he was trying to say and closes his mouth again. “It doesn’t bother me,” he manages to say on a second attempt, locking gazes with the male across from him and miraculously managing to keep the eye contact going. “Just… Do we do that again? Do you want to do that again or was it just a one-time, too much to drink, very emotional day kind of thing? Did it even really happen? My memories seem so hazy on the details. Are you okay?” The last question, he realises, is the most important to him to know the answer to.

Yixing smiles then, suddenly. Softly and warmly, not like the mocking grins he’s been getting a lot of whenever they drink together. It’s a disarming kind of smile, although it’s not like he had any arms prepared to fight with anyway. But Yixing smiles and it’s like a little bit of sunshine has been placed into his chest again. “I’m okay,” is the reply he gets, as if his flatmate knows what the important question had been. “We could do that again. If you want. In a better setting.”

The smile widens a little on his flatmate’s face and he feels the sunshine in his chest expanding, as if every part of him is starting to bloom. Or maybe it’s more like the feeling you get when you’re five and someone treats you to all the ice cream you can eat. Or perhaps it’s the way you’d feel on a bright spring day with a little breeze blowing the scent of happiness in your face. He’s not exactly sure what to call it, but when he sees the earnestness in Yixing’s expression it’s everything altogether and he can’t help but smile back.

“Okay,” is what he utters, dumbly, but he hopes it is enough.

.

The hands of the clock still remain unmoving, although they manage to show the current time perfectly with every single glance he casts to the clock. It still unnerves him, still makes him want to stare at the damn thing until he catches the movement. But he knows it’s futile. He knows he’ll never catch the movement, because he’ll always be blinking or looking away right when it happens. Which irks him. It irks him beyond belief, but there’s nothing he can change about it. And so instead of trying to see anything, he just stares blankly and lets his mind wander.

It’s been weeks since the funeral. Weeks since the day Yixing and he kissed. Nothing has changed. They’re still sharing his apartment, still working in the same office, still didn’t do it again or anything to the likes of it. He’s starting to assume it has all been a dream. He was pretty hazy that day with the lack of sleep, after all. So that’s what he blames the lack of change on and he allows his mind to move on.

It’s been a year since the funeral. The other one. The one in which they buried his ex-girlfriend. The twelve months seem to have passed in a blink. On the one hand it feels like just yesterday when he saw her last, on the other hand he is starting to get really lonely all by himself and he often misses the presence of another person in bed at night. He faintly realises that means his ex-girlfriend was probably right in telling him they hardly did anything together anymore near the end.

He huffs to himself, thinks of the once again resealed boxes in his spare room and closes his eyes for a short moment to sigh. When he opens them again, the clock’s time has changed once more. He tries not to think of it too much and instead focuses on the breeze that blows into his room through the opened window. The air smells like night and cold and he enjoys its soft brush against his skin, allowing it to soothe some of his sadness.

.

“Yes, I understand, sir, but you’re going to have to arrange that with your boss before we can further discuss that matter.” He’s listening to Yixing try and brush off another payment delay from Arcorp while he’s typing up an e-mail to the head of Human Resources to inquire about a replacement for one of his colleagues while she’s off on maternity leave. “Alright, sir, I’ll talk to you again soon. Thank you for calling.” The click that follows tells him that his secretary hung up the phone but he finishes the e-mail before looking up.

“Ready?” He asks, waiting for the affirmative nod before shutting down his computer and getting up to gather his stuff. They’re the last ones left in the office, but like always he’s been waiting for his secretary to finish his tasks so they can leave together. When he comes out from behind his desk, briefcase in hand and coat hanging over his other arm, he looks up to find Yixing walking up to him without any of his own stuff and frowns in confusion.

Before he can question what his secretary’s doing, he realises what it is himself when Yixing doesn’t even slow down as he gets closer. Freezing in his spot, he just stands there and stares as the shorter male comes closer to him, unsure which one of the many options going through his head is going to happen. There’s arms around his middle in the next moment and then a head rests comfortably against his shoulder. It’s definitely a hug, which soothes some of the initial surprise inside of him and he breathes out a soft sigh.

“At least give me a heads up,” is the only thing he says, feeling strangely at ease with the situation, despite the fact that it’s the first time they’re doing anything like it. Relaxing his shoulders as he turns lightly to be able to throw his coat over the edge of his desk, he then shifts to the other side so he can drop his briefcase to the ground as well. When he straightens after that, he puts his arms around Yixing too, gently pulling the younger male against him some more and starting to stroke over his hair softly.

“Couldn’t.” Yixing’s reply is short and he thinks he hears the younger male’s voice strain a little. “Needed the hug first.” He snorts at that, amusement rumbling through him with the chuckle that follows, but doesn’t let go and just continues his rhythmical stroking until Yixing will decide he’s had enough and pull away. At least five minutes pass without anything to the likes of that happening and he doesn’t mind in the least.

.

Yixing starts coming to him for hugs more often after that, gradually. He never minds the physical contact, enjoys it even, and never pulls away until the younger does so. They don’t say anything about it because it’s not necessary, it just happens. They’re always alone when it happens, though, but he can only be glad about that. There is still so much prejudice about all these kinds of things in the world. Most of it in the small corner of it where they live, sadly.

One night he’s woken by a soft shake on his shoulder. Yixing is in front of him when he opens his eyes, looking like a lost, lonely puppy and he doesn’t even have to hear the other talk to know he’s mourning his mother that night. Quietly shifting in his position, he clears some space on the bed for his flatmate to slip into. Allowing the younger to roll into his personal space, he wraps one arm around the suddenly fragile-looking frame and gently strokes over Yixing’s back until the trembling finally subsides.

He doesn’t kick him back out of the bed when the moment’s over, nor does he try to talk about it. He just gives another stroke over Yixing’s back, before turning over to get comfortable again and continuing his sleep. When he wakes the next morning, his flatmate is still sound asleep next to him. He doesn’t try to wake him up and just slips out of bed to go prepare himself, so Yixing can have the bathroom to himself afterwards.

They don’t talk about it, but several days later, Yixing is at his bedside again and he quietly scoots over once more, one arm already outstretched to wrap around the younger male’s form and give whatever comfort is necessary. His friend slides into the given space gratefully and he doesn’t even think twice about it when he starts to gently stroke through the younger male’s hair, simply providing the necessary comfort for the harsh nights.

Outside of his window, the hands of the clock show a vibrant twenty to three AM. He hopes Yixing will soon be able to sleep at regular times again, but remembers how long it took him to do so and so he doesn’t put too much belief in it.


	4. Chapter 4

Yixing wakes up one night to complete darkness, telling him the curtains are closed this time around, something Kris doesn’t do often. Whatever the reason, the older male seems to prefer sleeping with the street lights and everything shining inside. Swallowing because of his dry mouth, he shifts slightly in his position and quietly readjusts his body on the small space he has gotten used to claim as his own overnight.

It’s a strange road they’ve taken to get to where they are, ever since that one particular day when Yixing saw all of his boss’s carefully put up walls and defences come down. He remembers clearly how Kris had been the exact same person as always throughout the whole of the day, not showing a single emotion and just quietly going through the motions. He remembers how horrible he himself had felt because of it, feeling like he had broken the other male’s trust or perhaps crossed some borders that had been under silent agreement, and that he was being punished by being completely ignored. But then he had said he could go and Kris had seemingly come apart in front of him.

He doesn’t know what exactly it was that had made his boss crumble, but the man had spoken again, the first words that day, or that’s what it had felt like. And he still remembers the awkward stumble of Kris’ voice when he’d asked what they were going to do next. Whatever kind of worry or care he had felt for the taller male until then was nothing compared to what had bloomed inside of him at that moment, that moment in which a guarded, scarred person had lowered down his defences to ask about the future. Their future.

He feels another smile tug at the corners of his mouth, only to be followed by a sharp tinge in his chest, which turns the smile into a grimace as the first tears threaten to spill from his eyes again. Horrid, he thinks, the way every good thought gets infested right now. The way everything he thinks is crushed the next second when the thought of his mother invades his mind. The thought of how he will never be able to tell her about any of these things anymore. The way she’ll never tell him to be grateful for everything that is given to him, even hardships.

She had gone too soon, way too soon. Gasping softly when he realises how much that hurts him, he tries to gather his bearings, but it’s no use with the way the emotional pain gnaws at him from the inside out. It’s moments later, while he’s trying his best already to not make too much movement or sound as he basically weeps in agony, that an arm comes around him and he is pulled against a solid, warm form, the hand going through his hair in comforting motions.

He closes his eyes as he gratefully leans his forehead against the solid shoulder and allows the cold, guarded man to be the only witness to his destructively weak moment.

.

“Okay, but listen to this...” He pauses for a moment, thinks of a good comeback, realises he’s short a whole lot of basketball knowledge to even be able to get anything good and ultimately just sighs and gives up. “No, I’m out. I’ll hand you victory this time,” is what he surrenders himself with, earning an amused chuckle from the person on the other side of the office, who’s grinning smugly in the following moments. He shakes his head in disbelief, but then has to chuckle as well, just because Kris’ sound of amusement is so contagious. He loves to hear or watch the other male smile.

“When will you just give up trying to discuss basketball with me?” The question is shot at him just a little later and he looks up again to find Kris looking at him now, still smiling but with a questioning hint to the expression as well. He shrugs his shoulders and motions vaguely at nothing in particular.

“I don’t know… Never?” The reply makes his boss laugh again and he grins in amusement again himself as well. When Kris turns back to his work, Yixing himself gets up to go get himself a new cup of coffee from the breakroom. He doesn’t want to mess up any e-mails because of his horrendous sleeping habits. He doesn’t want to do anything to negatively impact Kris’ life after the older male has been doing so much to help him out with his. So he takes a good shot of pure caffeine back to the office with him and pretends to not see the small frown that blossoms on his boss’s face because of it.

When they gather their things to leave later that evening, Kris comes over to him and wraps him up in a hug without saying anything. He doesn’t exactly want it, because it risks him falling apart again, but can’t refuse it either because he craves for any bit of affection and warmth he can find currently. Burying his face against Kris’ shoulder, he closes his eyes and tries to imagine nothing is wrong in the world and he is in a good place, having a comfortable hug because he just feels like it.

For almost a full minute, it actually works.

.

By the time Christmas rolls around, Yixing has lived through at least three more visits by Kris’ father, luckily never having been smack in the middle of them anymore. Then somewhere in November, Kris has told his father off harshly and loudly so Yixing had been able to hear every detail of the blame the older male had put on his father. After that, Wu senior hadn’t visited or called again. Kris seems more relaxed, although he still doesn’t feel like he can judge the other male’s outer shows of emotion that well.

They have dinner together on the actual day – a whole meal that Yixing has prepared himself – and reminisce previous Christmases they had in their youth. Yixing’s list seems a lot more inexhaustible than Kris’s. He pretends not to notice the bitterness etched into every line of the older male’s face when they sit in silence for a while. He also pretends not to notice the complete and utter devastation etched into his own when he glances into the mirror later that night as he prepares for bed.

By the time the end of the year rolls around, Yixing has also lived through countless of nights of sleeping too late or waking up in tears, not really wanting to get out of bed at times or just not wanting to face any sort of reality at others. Like clockwork, Kris has always been there. Quietly, unquestioningly, without forcing him into anything but just being there for support. He doesn’t know how he’ll ever be able to properly repay the older male for everything he has been doing for him.

They’re both drunk and off their rocker again the actual night. They stand in Kris’ room with the window wide open and count down the invisible counter until the clock on the town hall loudly chimes the end of the day and the start of the new one. They chug their glasses of champagne down together in a ‘New Year’s ad fundum’ and discard the empty glasses to the side in favour of just sharing the bottle together.

He thinks they make it to bed somewhere around two, but he’s not entirely sure about the exact time, because when he looks at the clock through the by then closed again window it’s turned blurry and even moves around a bit. He doesn’t even bother trying to sleep in his own room and just crawls into bed together with Kris from the start.

.

A cold January night finds him hidden away in the bathroom, trying to muffle the sounds of his despair while the tears are leaking down his cheeks as if he’s got an endless supply of them. The door opens in the middle of his breakdown but he can’t find it in himself to stop, can’t find the strength to push back the tears and pretend to be alright. He pretends throughout the whole day already; he has none of it left for the night.

There’s arms around him again soon enough, someone having decided to sit on the cold, hard tiles of the bathroom floor together with him. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who, as there’s only the two of them living in the place. He turns a little further towards the older male so he can bury his face against the broad chest and curl his fingers into the fabric of Kris’ shirt, holding on to it for dear life, as if it’s going to be the one thing that saves him.

What really saves him, though, is the calm composure of the man holding him, who doesn’t even waver for a moment. Yixing feels how slowly but surely the tears come to a slow and then a stop. He sniffles a couple more times before he eventually lets go of Kris’ shirt so he can turn to reach for the toilet paper to clean his face with. When he turns back to face his companion, Kris has taken off his shirt and thrown it in the laundry bin and he shamefully realises he probably got tears and snot all over it.

“I’m sorry, I-” he starts to utter, but he is silenced by a single look from the older male, who shakes his head once in a reassuring manner. Yixing wonders how someone so cold and guarded can seem so understanding and compassionate on the floor of a dimly lit bathroom in the middle of the night. He doesn’t waste too much time in trying to come up with an explanation and just quietly relaxes under the hand that is put on his head and gently strokes over his hair.

When he goes back to bed a couple more minutes later, he is once again solidly pulled against Kris, his cheek now resting against the older male’s bare shoulder. The warmth of the other’s body soothes some of the remaining ache in his heart and he gratefully buries himself into it, closing his eyes and momentarily finding peace with himself as he drifts off to sleep.

.

It’s February already when he finally makes good on his own words. They’ve just gotten back from work and he’s watching Kris take off his coat when he declares he’s not drunk. His boss turns to look at him in surprise, a frown starting to crease the older male’s forehead. Yixing just smiles at him, waits for any kind of wordy reaction. It takes a couple of moments longer before Kris shakes his head lightly and then huffs out a smile. “Neither am I,” is the reply he gets, making his own smile widen a little further.

“Why are you stating that so s- What are you doing?” Yixing ignores the surprise on Kris’ face as he walks up to him, hoping that he hasn’t lost out on his chance yet and even more so that he isn’t going to be pushed away. Closing the distance between the two of them, he launches himself up on his tip toes and puts a hand on the back of the older man’s neck. Leaning in in the same swift movement, he presses his lips on Kris’s, eyes closing automatically.

There is a moment of nothing, that same kind of nothing he remembers from the first time he took hold of the older male in a hug, but then the frozen statue in front of him comes back alive. First an arm wraps around his middle slowly, almost gingerly. Next the other arm comes around his shoulders, capturing him in a more solid hold against the taller male, after which Kris’ head comes down and his kiss is responded to.

He doesn’t back away after the initial kiss, instead leaning in more himself as well and reprising what they had done while he was hammered somewhere mid-September last year. The taller male’s response is instant this time and Yixing feels the fingers going through his hair in an entirely different manner than usual. Taking in a shaky breath when he gets a chance to, he moves his free hand down to tug Kris’ shirt out of his pants and slide it underneath so he can caress the male’s sides and back.

Their exchange lasts longer than the previous time too, but once again Yixing feels himself being put into motion when Kris pushes against him. He obligingly steps backwards until the taller male seems satisfied with their new position. Yixing doesn’t waste any time on trying to see why they had to move and instead just keeps kissing, his left hand still roaming over Kris’ upper body, tracing the lines of his muscles and ribs.

It’s Kris who eventually pulls away, creating some distance between the two of them and thereby forcing Yixing to pull his hand back from underneath the dress shirt. Opening his eyes, he looks up at the taller male, trying to find what it is that lies inside Kris’ mind. He once again sees nothing in the older male’s expression, but Kris’ hand comes up to gently stroke the side of his face and he feels his eyes close on their own accord because of the soft sensation.

When he opens them again, he can see his boss picking up his briefcase to head over to the leftovers room, probably to continue working a little more. When the door closes with a thud, Yixing trickles back to his own bedroom to change out of his working suit so he can start on dinner.

.

The sound of the egg-timer is as always Kris’ cue to re-enter the living room for dinner. Yixing doesn’t even dare to look up at him, afraid that he’s going to catch the same look of nothing as usual. He can’t explain what it is he’s feeling, after such an intense make-out session ending in no words exchanged and Kris just walking off like that. He doesn’t think any words will ever be spilled on it again and has already made a note to self, indicating that Kris does not want anything like that to do with him anymore.

So he places the wok on the table and moves to sit down. Before he can even turn away, however, there are arms sneaking around his middle from behind, and a chin is soon prepped onto his shoulder. The moment he turns his head to the right so he can look at the taller male, a kiss lands on his cheek and he receives a fond nuzzle – including a very content hum. He feels his chest constrict in fearfully hopeful expectation as he waits for what comes next, not daring to move in order not to break whatever moment they’re having.

“Thank you for making dinner,” Kris tells him in the next moment, after which a kiss lands in his hair and the arms loosen their grip on him. Feeling how the body pressed against him eases away from him when Kris straightens, Yixing turns on his heels slightly so he can look up at the taller male, now eager to catch whatever glimpse he can catch on the older male’s expression to figure out what any of this means.

The taller man’s face is incredibly close to his, he realises when he does that, and instead of looking for an expression, his eyes are just taking in the other male’s, brain scrambling to find a good colour to describe them with. A very dark dark-brown, he settles on in the end, almost black given the fact that the light in the room is coming from behind Kris. He belatedly remembers his mission of figuring out what exactly Kris’ intentions are but doesn’t even have time to get to it when the taller male leans in once again.

They’re kissing again and Yixing would have bumped into the table if not for the arm Kris has put around him to keep him from moving backwards. This time, he is the one to not respond in surprise for a moment, but it is only a split second before his hand comes up to once again grab hold of Kris’ nape and keep him close. He doesn’t want the older male to pull away again, doesn’t want whatever it is they’ve got going on to ever end, because he knows there’s mostly disappointment waiting for him when it does.

.

“My name’s Yifan,” his boss tells him one particular day in early March, and Yixing only then realises that it has been a number of months since Kris has last called him by the name Lay. He repeats the taller male’s Chinese name as if testing it out on his tongue and finally finds what has always sounded so foreign about ‘Kris.’ Yifan fits the man in front of him much better, somehow, describing better the darkness around the tall male’s eyes and the tense line of his lips.

“Alright, Yifan,” he replies with a cheeky smile, causing the older male to start smiling in amusement as well. It turns Yixing’s insides into fireworks for a moment and his eyes linger on the face of the male opposite of him longer than usual, before he remembers there’s something like colleagues and people watching and he quickly turns his gaze back to his computer screen. When he glances up again several minutes later, Yifan is still smiling and he continues to watch his boss’s mirth for a little while once again.

It’s the sound of a received e-mail that eventually pulls his gaze back to the screen, where he finds ReFurb’s official statement about the cancellation of their partnership. When he looks up over at his boss, the smile has disappeared entirely, leaving nothing but the clean-cut coldness of his usual expression. Yixing winces involuntarily when he is faced with it once again, then breathes out a soft sigh. He knows the pressure this will put on Yifan.

And indeed, mere moments later his boss is getting up from his desk chair to head for the elevator. Instant discussion of the matter is necessary, but Yixing also knows he is not to be present during this first conversation. There is even a high chance that Yifan himself won’t be able to do or say much except relay the decision their associates have made to the higher ups. He can only hope that his day of work is going to end before midnight.

.

He turns out to be lucky, when Yifan enters their office again a little after ten in the evening, stalking over to his desk to grab his coat and briefcase, clearly set on leaving straight away. Yixing watches quietly as his boss turns away, only for Yifan’s gaze to pass over him shortly and the whole movement to come to a halt. He sees the ‘you’re still here’ flash over Yifan’s expression before realisation follows.

“I’m sorry,” Yifan instantly speaks and Yixing shakes his head lightly, trying to reassure his boss that it’s fine. He’s about to open his mouth to say he’ll take the public transport when Yifan continues talking. “My father is apparently trying to get into the market by taking away our partners and associates. ReFurb is the second one this week but he must have gotten to them by talking bad about me. I need to fix this and secure ties with the others before it can get any worse.”

There’s so much previously hidden pain in the hunch of Yifan’s shoulders when he finishes his sentence that Yixing can do nothing but feel bad for the older male. Getting up from his chair, he’s not entirely sure yet what he’s going to do, but doesn’t even get a chance to do anything, because Yifan gathers himself once more and motions with a hand towards the door. “I’ll drop you off at home before I go to my father. I’m sorry.”

Whatever Yixing could have said or done to make Yifan feel better doesn’t matter anymore, and so he just moves to gather his things as quickly as possible and not waste any more of his boss’s time. The drive back to the apartment is silent once more, Yifan focused on the road and Yixing just thinking about the whole situation and how low it is of Yifan’s father to do something like steal away their associates by talking bad about his own son.

It’s only when the car stops at the side of the road to let him out and Yifan greets him with an “I’ll see you tomorrow” that Yixing realises he’s going to have to spend the night on his own. Swallowing the sudden fear that strikes him at those words, he nods his head and just gets out of the car with a quick “Good luck.” He watches Yifan drive off, already dreading the many lonely hours ahead of him.

.

The sound of the front door closing and being locked wakes Yixing from his slumber. There is an empty bottle of beer lying on the floor, right in his line of sight, and he feels the softness of the fleece blanket he took to curl up against caress his cheek. Groaning lightly at the light that falls inside the bedroom from the hallway, he blinks a couple of times before starting to move. Everything blurs for a moment as his head starts to spin at the simple act so he opts for lying still.

What seems like an eternity later, a figure appears in the doorway, blocking some of the light from falling into the bedroom. Yixing is pretty sure no ordinary human was ever supposed to be this tall. The universe picks that moment as the exact one to make him gag, causing instant movement to happen at the doorway. It all happens too fast for him to comprehend but by the time his head stops spinning again, he’s seated in the bathroom with his cheek resting against the toilet seat.

Someone’s softly reassuring him in comforting sounds that everything is going to be alright when the next wave of nausea hits him. The warmth of a hand in between his shoulder blades registers and he remains acutely aware of it all the way until a glass of water appears in front of his face. He takes it with a trembling hand, uses the first mouthful to spit out the bad aftertaste and downs the rest in a couple of swallows.

When it gets taken away again, he is gently and slowly pulled away from the toilet, his head colliding with a warm, solid object that instantly calls for him to lean into it. He nuzzles against the soft warmth near his face and strokes a little over the fabric beneath his hand as he closes his eyes in contentment. He hums when an arm wraps around his shoulders and the hand in between his shoulder blades starts to stroke up and down.

He sinks back into his slumber somewhere between whispered words next to his ear and a gentle press of lips against his temple.

.

“How do you feel?” There is no emotion in the voice, only an even question. The glass of water reached out to him is like a gift from the heavens and when he lets his gaze go through the room as he accepts it, there is no sign of the empty bottles of beer he knew had still been there the night before. There is no mention of them either, nor of the mess he vaguely remembers having left in the living room. There is only a subtle crease in Yifan’s forehead that indicates he’s either annoyed or worried. Yixing is terrified to find out which one of the two it is.

He drinks the glass of water first, deciding his body deserves it what with the unhealthy amounts of alcohol he’d downed the night before. All because he’d been alone within the deepest hours of the night, where his demons still hunt him the strongest. Only when the glass is empty and lowered, does he turn back to look at Yifan again. The older male’s expression remains unchanged, eyes fixed on him as if he’s going to do something stupid again should they let him out of their sights. He can’t blame them.

“How do you feel, Yixing? Are you alright? Do you need an aspirin?” He figures the dull ache right behind his eyes is something he has to deal with for the damage he’s inflicted on himself, so he shakes his head lightly. It doesn’t make everything spin anymore like it did in the small moment he remembers from the middle of the night.

“I’m okay,” he crooks in response to the words, clearing his throat when he hears how hoarse it sounds, but knowing that’s not going to get better for at least the first couple of hours anyway. “Thank you for the water. I’m sorry about the mess.” He looks down at the glass he’s still holding and does everything he can not to have to look at Yifan, who remains eerily quiet for longer than he feels even remotely comfortable with in this moment.

Suddenly there’s lips against his temple, then high on his cheekbone before they brush past his jaw. The sudden close proximity sends a shiver through him, but he clenches his teeth together to keep them from chattering. Yifan’s hand is on his next, gently taking hold of his fingers, a thumb running over the side of his own. Following the movement of the digit with his eyes, he almost feels ready to weep like a baby once more, but holds himself back. One night of wailing at the sky is going to be enough for him for the next year, preferably.

“I was worried when I found you like that.” Yifan’s voice is soft, coming from close by his ear, a hint to it that reminds him of his own voice sometimes when he was talking to his mother in the hospital still. “Don’t do that to me again.” A crack, hardly noticeable but Yixing hears it right next to his ear and his gaze shoots up to look at Yifan. The expression is far from emotionless anymore, worry and sadness clearly visible in every crease of it.

“I’m sorry,” he speaks, another hoarse sound, but it does relay his sincere apology, he hopes. The lips brush past his jaw again, this time to land on his own lips, and he momentarily comes undone at the amount of held back feelings that is relayed through the needy contact. Bringing one hand up from around the glass, he puts it on the side of Yifan’s face and wordlessly tries to relay his own emotions right back.

.

ReFurb is back on their side, Yifan tells him a particularly warm April day that allows them to leave the office window open and let the spring’s breeze in. “Higher ups are rewarding me with a holiday,” is the next thing that is being told to him. His insides freeze, the thought of Yifan not having to work instantly fills his mind with images of him sitting alone in the office for days on end, taking the dreary public transportation to and from work and never once being able to see Yifan’s amused grin beam up at him from the other side of the office.

“They’re paying for the holiday in return for me going to talk to some of the overseas associates in person while I’m gone,” Yifan continues and Yixing slowly pries his eyes away from the computer screen to look at his boss. Yifan’s looking at him with a relaxed smile, clearly looking forward to the idea of a holiday abroad. Overseas, even. Who can blame him? “I hope your French is still up to par.”

There’s a moment of confusion when Yixing tries to gauge the true meaning of the words he’s just heard, but his eyebrows rise in surprise all too quickly and Yifan starts to grin that particularly fond grin he’s just been thinking about. “We’re going to Brussels next month, Yixing,” he’s being told next, causing him to really grasp the whole situation in which the holiday reward is for the both of them and not at all about Yifan going off on his own. “London after that, by the way,” Yifan adds as an afterthought, grin widening.

“Really!?” His surprise is only mirrored by his excitement and Yifan seems to catch on to it because there is a hearty laugh coming from his boss not long after. He can’t even be bothered anymore by the fact that Yifan is laughing with him, grinning brightly himself at the thought of going to Europe. Even if it’s mostly for business reasons, he’s more than sure there will be enough time left for him to do some sightseeing. Maybe even together with Yifan.

“Really,” the older male confirms just then and he locks gazes with him again for a moment, not taking long to start grinning once more. “So I suggest you get to planning out the trip. I’ll e-mail you the business schedule in a moment. You can plan everything else around it, just leave an hour extra after each appointment in case anything runs late, then we should be fine.” Yixing doesn’t even wait for the e-mail to arrive before opening up a multitude of websites on Europe’s places to visit.

.

“Alright, you ready? You have everything?” Yixing nods in reply to his boss’s question, lifting the suitcase on his right momentarily to indicate where exactly his everything is. “Clothes? Business papers?” He nods at each of the items Yifan mentions, until the older male ends with: “Sunscreen for that winter landscape skin of yours?” There’s a moment of silence, Yixing’s mouth opening and closing again without any sound coming out, before Yifan bursts out into amused laughter.

The next moment his suitcase stands discarded on the floor as he launches himself at Yifan in a tickle attack. The only thing he knows the tall male cannot just slither his way out of by strength or height alone. Of course Yifan dashes off in a blink, leaving his own suitcase standing in the hallway too as he heads into the living room. Yixing curses the older male’s basketball history once again when Yifan easily evades a couple of his attacks with some of those sporty moves he’s got, but doesn’t give up the chase.

Eventually he corners Yifan in between the wall and the couch, tickling his sides and neck until Yifan is giggling uncontrollably, long limbs flailing around in his desperate attempts to get free of the torture. Yixing stops only when he satisfies his thirst for revenge, grinning widely while his chest rises and falls at quick intervals. They take a moment to catch their breath, the only sound in between them the continuous panting, and Yixing looks up at Yifan breathlessly, smiling fondly at the tall male who’s keeping himself upright against the wall.

“Serves you right,” he tells the older male indignantly, only for Yifan to look down at him with a wide, amused grin. It doesn’t take long for Yixing to be grinning again as well because of it, so he hits Yifan’s chest just to prove the fact that he’s not forgiven the other just yet. Yifan only grins wider, catching hold of his hand before he can hit again and leaning in to capture his lips in another kiss. There’s a small moment in which Yixing considers fighting him off, but then he gives in instead and kisses back willingly.

It’s at least twenty minutes later, with Yifan’s shirt already halfway unbuttoned and his own pushed up to right beneath his armpits that the loud chimes of the clock outside tell them it’s high time they go. They break apart in mirrored surprise, but it takes only one look at him for Yifan to start grinning again and Yixing huffs, pulling his shirt back down properly. “I’ll get you back for that soon,” he threatens, which only serves to Yifan pulling him back in for another kiss. He doesn’t even try to fight it, choosing instead to enjoy the prolonged moment of closeness.

When they break apart a second time, Yifan is no longer grinning but watching him with an intense gaze instead. Yixing feels the heat rise to his cheeks and then, when he recognises the lust in Yifan’s expression, to someplace entirely different. But the ever so composed Yifan turns his gaze away before he can lean in once again and simply climbs over the couch’s back rest to get away from him, already buttoning back up the shirt he’s wearing.

“We better go before we miss our flight,” he is told as Yifan takes hold of his own suitcase again and Yixing can do nothing but oblige, because he really doesn’t want to miss that flight to Europe either.


	5. Chapter 5

He wakes up randomly in the middle of the night, the digital clock on the bedside table showing him he’s got at least a couple more hours of sleep to go before he has to get up. The absence of the large clock tower outside reminds him he’s not at home. The elbow uncomfortably jabbed between two of his lower back ribs reminds him Yixing has crawled into bed with him again, despite the fact that they have two beds to their disposure. Both singles, which is why their two forms randomly sprawled over are not fitting on just one all too well.

He gently nudges the elbow away from his side and moves to turn over, not seeing much in the utter darkness of the hotel room. There’s a short tremble in Yixing’s breath and then the pattern changes, indicating the younger male is waking up too. He can’t help smiling at first, moving his hand to gently reach out so he can stroke his companion’s arm. The touch stirs Yixing further awake, it seems, and he feels how a hand lands on top of his to give his fingers a soft squeeze.

It isn’t long before Yixing starts turning around as well, so he scoots back a little to the edge of the mattress to give the younger male the space to do so. They lie face to face not long after and he can feel the warm air being breathed right down his shirt with almost surprising accuracy. Not speaking a word, he continues to softly stroke over Yixing’s upper arm, moving forward only a moment later to blindly search for the other male’s face in the dark.

His nose softly collides with skin first and he moves his head so he can make his lips touch it instead. Like that, he kisses a trail over Yixing’s cheek up to his temple, then to his nose, after which the younger’s face moves up almost automatically to meet his. The kiss is soft, chaste, everything innocent he has been seeing in the younger male ever since that first day he’d walked into the office to introduce himself as the new secretary. How far they’ve come since then.

His hand travels upwards over Yixing’s arm to cup the side of his face so he can pull him in to a less innocent kiss. He’s glad when the response is instant and willing, even more glad for the complete and utter darkness when it covers up the heat that rises to his cheeks the moment one of Yixing’s hands finds its way up to his face to stroke his cheek. He lets his own hand travel back down over the side of the younger’s neck back to his arm and down to his side, not hesitating once in sneaking it underneath the loose shirt that currently covers Yixing’s upper body.

Once again the response from the younger male is instant, hands coming down to stroke over his side and body. He moves more upward into a sitting position, pulling the other male along to allow the both of them better access to each other’s bodies. There’s some fumbling and fitting to try and keep the both of them on the bed and not toppling off the side, but their lips soon find each other again, and then find other places to kiss too. He feels that little speck of sunshine that has been sitting in his chest ever since Yixing’s first smile at him expand to a pleasant warmth coursing all through him.

He only goes back to sleep long after that warmth has subsided and Yixing’s breathing has already evened out again, the lithe form of his secretary, friend and lover pressed closely and comfortably against him.

.

“It’s so small!” Yixing proclaims just a day later from the restaurant high up in the Atomium. He turns to look outside through the window as well and smiles fondly when the younger male continues. “I bet I can see the whole country from up here. We passed through it in a less than two-hour drive!” Admittedly, after the vastness of China and the United States, the small Europe country is hardly worth being called one in his eyes as well, but he knows Yixing is excited to see it nonetheless.

“I can’t wait to go to Luxembourg. I bet you can get through that in the span of half an hour only,” his secretary is indeed chatting on, but he doesn’t mind the excited flow of Chinese that spills from Yixing’s lips. In fact, he doesn’t mind anything coming from his secretary these days. Their trip to Europe has gone exquisite so far, their private time together in its main cities nothing but blissful what with no one they know able to suddenly see them holding hands. And he has been able to see how every time their fingers touch and he entangles his with Yixing’s, the shorter male’s demeanour brightened more.

So here they are, sitting in Brussels’ iconic nine-ball structure, looking out over the city with the remnants of a delicious meal between them, and Yixing’s excitement bristling. He notices the way his companion pauses his talking to stare out at the sight some more, then turns to look at him, smile having dimmed to the soft, warm one he has been getting regularly lately. Breathing out a soft sigh, he smiles back and leans in closer to the table so he can reach out and take a hold of Yixing’s hand for a short moment.

Once again the simple action of the physical contact seems to bring life to Yixing’s entire being. The smile on the younger male’s face widens as well as the light in his eyes seems to brighten. He can do nothing but watch in warm content the way the simple action of holding hands is enough to make his lover’s day. Then pauses and startles when he realises how he’s been thinking of the man opposite of him lately.

Not that they aren’t lovers, he thinks. They are definitely that after their night in the hotel in his eyes, but he doesn’t know how Yixing feels about the subject. Nor does he know how he himself feels about the warmth that seems to gather in his chest every time he pictures Yixing in the official position of his boyfriend. He tests the sound in his mind and thinks it comes out too childish, but doesn’t have a better word to describe their relationship at this point in time.

When Yixing finally turns to look at him, tearing his eyes away from the scenery outside, the expression on the younger male’s face is warm but confident as well. He hasn’t seen the other male as relaxed and content as in that particular moment, so he doesn’t even bother with titles or names anymore and just runs his thumb over the back of Yixing’s hand and takes in the view one more time.

.

London is even more of a spectacle than Brussels was, but it doesn’t beat Paris nor Luxembourg in his opinion. It does have a more understandable language, although the accent is tricky at best. What he enjoys most of all about it, however, is that Yixing hasn’t planned very much for them to see in London because of the amount of time he has to spend on business meetings, which means that the free time he does have, he gets to spend in the hotel together with Yixing.

They’re prepped up in the couch this time around, the opened curtains revealing a spectacular view on the city by night. He’s holding a glass of wine, taking a gentle sip as he watches the London Eye turn in the distance. Yixing next to him has opted for a beer, something he’s gotten more of a liking for again after trying out several of the famous Belgian ones as well, but he’s still more fond of wine. Especially the exquisite French one he’s enjoying that very moment.

It’s been quiet for a while again between them, a comfortable kind of silence, in which Yixing’s shoulder presses gently against his and the simple physical contact is all they need to stay comfortable. His mind has finally let go of all the work-related things, allowing him to think of much more enjoyable things, like the time he gets to spend with Yixing in the beautiful cities of Europe and the way Yixing seems to feel better with every day they reside away from home.

“I’ve been thinking of going back to China.” The words are sudden, unexpected, and he feels how everything inside of him freezes for a moment. Yixing seems to notice it too, because from the corner of his eye he can see the younger male’s head turn to look at him. He makes a point of not looking back and just keeping his gaze on the London Eye, a noncommittal hum leaving him as the only response to the words.

“Yifan?” Yixing questions more pressingly and he cannot deny the silent request to look, so he turns his head and catches the other male’s gaze. What he sees is question, perhaps even invitation, but he can’t even remember the last time he was in China himself. Actually he can, because he was at the funeral of his mother there, which is all the more reason for him never to return again. “What would you think of it?”

He turns his head back to the window and takes another sip of the exquisite French wine. It tastes like crap, all of a sudden, and the colourful lights outside the window turn into a hateful scenery, one he never wants to look at again in his life. He gets up from the couch to go pour the wine down the drain in the bathroom and simply stays there to get changed for bed. He climbs into it without so much as another word, pulling the blanket up to his chin and turning his back to Yixing and the room.

.

Yixing threads carefully around him the next day, as if he might explode any minute. He doesn’t feel like that, though. He feels like he might fall apart any minute. But he doesn’t mention that option as he quietly goes about his business. Talking to their associates luckily goes well, as does the rest of his day, but of course when they are alone in the hotel room that evening, Yixing speaks up. He can’t blame the younger male, but he honestly would have preferred to never have the conversation that his secretary is trying to have.

“Yifan, talk to me!” He is told that eventually, which makes him lift his head and look over at Yixing, who’s standing near the television, looking at him exasperatedly. He swallows at the sight, but keeps his gaze on the younger male.

“What do you want me to say, Yixing?” He notices how his companion visibly flinches at the sound of his voice and belatedly realises how cold it sounds. “You want to go back to China, that’s your decision to make. What do you think I would think about that? I hate the mere thought of it. Of you leaving. I don’t want to let you go, I want to keep you with me. But if you want to go back to China, then so be it. I am not going to stop you, Yixing. Do what you must.”

He knows there’s still not enough emotion in his voice for it to sound better than his first words, he knows because his ex-girlfriend has had fights with him about it more often than once. But contrary to her, Yixing seems to understand, because he can see the frustration seep out of the younger male’s stance and then he is moving. Following how the other male walks over to him, he is surprised when Yixing sits down next to him and just hugs him from the side, clinging tightly to his neck and even nuzzling his shoulder.

“What’s that for?” he asks softly, hesitance audible this time rather than coldness. The answer baffles him more than anything else Yixing has ever said and he sits in stunned silence for a long time after it, unable to proceed from there on without facing the consequences of the words. Yixing doesn’t say anything else, but stays next to him in the couch and cuddles into his side not long after, turning on the television as if nothing extraordinary has happened.

It’s only when Yixing is falling asleep against his side that he finally moves again, taking hold of the remote to turn off the television before moving to get up from the couch. Yixing blinks up at him sleepily when he does, moving to sit up straight again himself. He crouches down in front of the younger male’s legs and puts his hands on Yixing’s knees, looking up at him from that position tentatively, hoping that his lover will understand how much what he’s going to say actually means to him.

“I love you too.”

.

Even though Europe’s cities are beautiful, nothing compares to the long drive they take through Scotland’s countryside the last two days of their trip. But perhaps not all of that has to do with the view and more of it with the company. It’s just nature, the car, Yixing and him, and it’s wonderful. They take breaks more than often enough to just sit on the hood of the car and look out over the scenery. Usually in those moments, Yixing puts his arms around his middle and cuddles into his side comfortably, which is arguably one of the best ways of spending time on the hood of a car.

There is one better, of course, but since they’ve spent their overnight in the tent much like that one, he is more than content just cuddling on the hood of the car. Until Europe’s weather kicks in and the sky turns a dangerous dark grey. It doesn’t take very long for the first flash of lightning to crackle through the sky. He shifts, instantly wanting to get up and get inside the car, but Yixing holds him in place.

“Wait,” is the only thing he is told, but he is comfortable enough still to listen, and so he shifts back into his earlier position and puts his arm a little better around Yixing. Like that they sit and watch how the sky gets torn apart up ahead of them, lightning flashing and thunder raging. For the first time in his life, he sees the downpour of rain coming up to him from across the wide fields, until he is within its line of fire and gets drenched in a matter of seconds. He lets out an uncomfortable squeak at the sensation, Yixing lets out a happy shout.

Looking over at his lover, he gets to see how Yixing lets go of him to just spread his arms and lift his face up to the sky, catching the raindrops in his mouth. He’s not quite sure if that’s entirely hygienic, but can’t be bothered anymore whatsoever when the next thing Yixing does is turn to him and grin widely and happily. The sunshine inside of his chest expands in such proportions that he doesn’t even notice the rain anymore, despite the fact that it’s already soaking his underwear as well.

Without any kind of plan, he reaches out and puts a hand on the back of Yixing’s neck, pulling him in for a kiss. The laughter dies out against his lips in favour of continuing the kiss and he wraps his arms protectively around the shorter male when he moves to slide off the hood of the car. Yixing moves along easily, landing on his feet as if it had been his plan all along as well. He soon feels the other male’s arms around his middle, hands tugging at his wet shirt to get it out of his pants so that they can roam over the skin of his upper body freely.

He does quite the same with Yixing, although all he needs to do is move his hands underneath the loose shirt the younger’s wearing. They’re still kissing and getting drenched, but Yixing’s body is warm standing flush against him and he hardly even notices the stormy weather anymore over the thundering of his own heart and the rush of blood running past his ears. That is, however, until an extremely bright flash followed by an extremely close bang of thunder startles the both of them and they both instantly flee, to the safety of the car’s inside.

The doors close behind them with equally hurried thuds and he needs a moment to get over his surprise before he can look over at the male next to him. Yixing looks back at him, mouth slightly parted, breath still slightly accelerated from the surprise as well as the making out, a little flushed and completely drenched but more attractive than ever. The next moment they’re laughing, carelessly, the relief that comes after the surprise enough to pull the bursts of happiness from them easily.

He feels completely and utterly at ease and hopes that feeling will never end, even though their trip is almost over.

.

“ReFurb’s CEO again, sir, asking for a dinner with you.” He looks up from his computer to frown lightly over at his secretary, who is holding the phone a little end away from her ear, covering the mouth piece with her free hand while waiting for his response. He takes a long moment to consider all his options, then shakes his head lightly.

“Not this week. Tell him I’ll call back tomorrow to arrange a date next week.” He gets a nod in response as Allison gets to relaying his message, but doesn’t wait for any further response, simply focusing on his own computer screen again. Finishing the mail he was typing up when she’d interrupted him, he reads it through quickly for any major errors and then sends it. With that, the last of his business for the day is handled and he easily shuts down the machine so he can go home.

“Don’t stay in too late again, Allison. If you work too hard they’re going to think I’m lacking soon.” It’s a small joke but he can see from his secretary’s face she’s not aware of it. It’s not like that surprises him. He’s heard her ask their other colleagues about him earlier in the week and knows she thinks of him as an angry, uncaring bastard. It brings back memories, he has to admit, but honestly can’t be bothered to try and change her opinion. It won’t be long until he’s rid of the problem, after all, Allison’s only staying for the rest of the week.

He greets his other remaining colleagues on the way to the elevator with a couple of words, but then makes sure he gets the hell out of there before anyone else can stop him. The drive home is quiet and lonely, but he’s starting to get used to it by now. It’s been a long while since the last time he’d shared the car ride home with his usual companion. He does miss the comforting presence on the passenger seat on the one hand, but knows it can’t be helped.

Entering the apartment not long after, he takes off his coat first and goes over to the extra room to put his briefcase away. Going over to his bedroom next, he changes out of the suit he’s been wearing into a more comfortable set of joggings and a shirt. Only when he’s done all that does he head over to the living room, pausing in the door opening to look at the male who’s sleeping soundly in the couch, the blanket sprawled all over except where it needs to be. It brings an amused smile to his face and he walks over to tuck Yixing in properly.

The younger male stirs at his touch, but he silences any question with a gentle kiss. “I just got home, don’t worry,” he reassures the younger first as he runs the back of his fingers over the side of Yixing’s face. “How do you feel?” Nothing more than some miserable sounds come from the male in his couch, so he strokes over his hair a little more. “Just sleep again, I’ll be here when you wake up.” He crouches next to the couch until Yixing sinks away into sleep once more and has to bear with his sleeping foot for the next twenty minutes.

.

It must be at least five in the morning when Yixing enters his room a couple of days later, but he’s more terrified of the reason the younger male is in his room than of the early hour in the morning. Looking up at the lithe form visible against the light coming through his window, he squints a little and tries not to get too blinded by the clock tower lights. Without asking questions, he already moves over, creating enough space on the bed for Yixing to crawl into even though he doesn’t know yet what’s wrong – and if anything is wrong at all.

But when Yixing does crawl into bed with him, the face that gets pressed into his chest is cold and wet and the arms that wrap around him tremble slightly. He starts, instantly wraps his arms back around his friend and waits with bathed breath for whatever the younger male is going to tell him next. There is nothing for the first twenty minutes at least, but then a somewhat louder than usual, quivering breath is taken.

“It hurts,” he is told next, the voice soft and oh so fragile, making every instinct inside of him jump up to try and defend the vulnerable young man in his arms. He doesn’t know what to do, though, because Yixing is sick and he’s been given the medicine he needs to get better, but there’s just this period of time he needs to sit through so that his Bronchitis passes because there’s nothing much antibiotics can do for him now – or so the doctor had said when they’d gone to get Yixing checked out.

“I’m sorry, babe, I know it hurts, but you’re getting better, it won’t be long anymore before you’ll be fine again,” he replies in a soft tone, feeling how Yixing is seemingly trying to crawl even closer against him. Breathing out a soft sigh of regret, he allows his lover to reposition himself properly and places several gentle kisses against his hair and forehead. Which, he notices only then, is burning up a little again. There’s nothing much he can do about that, though, so he holds the lithe form against him and hopes that using all his willpower to focus on his recovery will help Yixing get better too.

They lie like that in silence for a while – he’s not entirely sure how long because the outside clock is hidden by the curtains – before Yixing moves again. At first he is surprised that the younger rolls away, but then he realises the fever is probably making him feel too hot right in that moment. So he gently pulls the blanket off of himself and gets up out of bed. Walking over to the exit of the bedroom, he quickly makes his way over to the kitchen to make some tea for his lover.

When he returns with it, he finds the night lamp in his room turned on and Yixing sitting upright in bed, looking at the door with sad eyes. They brighten a little when he enters and he basically sees the realisation pass over the younger male’s features when he notices the tea in his hands. It’s only then that he realises he didn’t tell Yixing where he was going or why and he feels extremely bad in the next second, rushing over to the bed instantly, although still careful not to spill any of the warm tea.

“I’m sorry, love,” he breathes out as he carefully sits down on the edge of the bed and places the tea down on the bedside table. “I went to make you some tea.” Reaching out, he feels Yixing’s forehead again, then puts a hand on his cheek and leaves it there when his lover leans into it with his eyes closing almost on their own accord. “I’m here,” he whispers, hoping it might be of some help to the younger. “I’m right here. You’ll be alright.” Yixing hums at those words and turns his head a little to place a soft kiss on the palm of his hand. His chest explodes into warmth. He wants nothing other than to protect the man in front of him forever.

.

“You’ve done a tremendous amount of work for us, Kris, and we wanted to let you know we’re grateful for that.” His eyes are fixed on the CEO of the company he works for, who’s talking to him with an amicable smile on her face, hands crossed on the desk in front of her. He’s not entirely sure what he should be replying, so he just nods his head once and waits for her to continue. She smiles at him a little tight-lipped and he assumes he should have said something in thanks for the praise, but it’s too late to do so now anyway.

“Without you we would have most certainly lost our deals with ReFurb and Jefferson, so I’m offering you a promotion. As you know mister Harris is retiring next month. We would like to offer the position to you. I’m sure you’re aware what his job holds. If you are alright with this, you’re going to be accompanying mister Harris on his job for the last month so he can help you get used to everything before he goes. Of course his secretary, miss Perez, will help you out to the best of her abilities as well once mister Harris has left.”

His head is reeling. The opportunity he’s being given is huge, but for some reason the only thing he can focus on is the last sentence that has been spoken to him. Misses Richardson seems to interpret his silence as stunned surprise rather than hesitation, because she smiles at him warmly. “Take your time to think about it, Kris. I know it comes as a surprise, but we didn’t want to let your efforts go by unnoticed. I’ll wait for your answer until tomorrow.” The words bring him back to the present and he sucks in a quick breath of air.

“I-” he starts, but decides to rephrase in order of being more respectful towards the CEO. “Would I perhaps be able to keep my current secretary? We’ve worked together for almost a year and a half now and we’re very accustomed to each other.” He swallows, then quickly adds: “Not that I think miss Perez is underqualified or anything like that, not at all. I just…” He stops talking, looking at misses Richardson in front of him and hoping that he won’t come over as ungrateful or, even worse so, in love with his secretary.

He is the latter, of course, no doubt about that, but what he said he also said because Yixing and him have gotten used to working together indeed and he doesn’t really want to have to try and find a good understanding with yet a new secretary. He still remembers how Allison had left the office near to crying on the last day of her time as Yixing’s replacement. Not because she would miss it around there, but because she just told him how much of a heartless person he was. He’s pretty sure he’ll never see her again.

“Alright,” miss Richardson speaks after a moment of silence in which she seems to have waited for him to finish that sentence he started. Focus instantly going back to the CEO, he stands quietly and waits for what she will tell him, afraid it’s not going to be a certainty. “I did hear about miss Cage’s dramatic exit, perhaps it is for the best you keep your current secretary. Mister Zhang, was it?” He nods quickly, not wanting to say or do anything that might make her change her mind. “I’m sure miss Perez won’t mind a change of position. I’ll see what she thinks about it. However, if she wishes to keep her current position you’re going to have to work with her.”

“Of course, ma’am,” he agrees easily, because he knows it’s the best chance he’ll get at keeping Yixing by his side. He can’t wait to tell Yixing about the opportunity he’s been given and the chance that he could take the younger male along with him in it, so he leaves the moment he’s allowed to with a polite nod of his head and a greeting.

.

“Have you decided?” All kinds of things go through his mind, like how Yixing had been a bit hesitant the night before about going along because ‘what if they find out about us?’ He honestly hadn’t worried about that until Yixing spoke up about it, mostly because those kind of things go right over his head usually. He takes into consideration all his options, then eventually looks straight at miss Richardson.

“Can I ask if you know anything more about my secretary?” The CEO gives him a scrutinising look and he is sure she must have caught on to something at this point, because he’s asking about the issue again, but miss Richardson starts to smile again a moment later, nodding her head once.

“Ah, yes, I asked miss Perez and she seemed more than happy to start working for me. I assume you spoke to mister Zhang?” He gives a nod of his head again, which is enough this time for miss Richardson to continue. “In the case that you take the job, mister Zhang will have to learn the ropes on the go, with some help from miss Perez, the moment mister Harris retires. Until then he will keep working as a secretary for your replacement.”

He knows it’s the best they will ever get and he knows the raise for Yixing will equal to almost a doubling of his wage. It’s an incredible amount as well as an incredible favour misses Richardson is doing him, and so he forgets Western habits for a moment as he dips into a respectful bow.

“Thank you, misses Richardson,” he states in a polite manner, straightening up again as he does so to look at his CEO once more. She’s looking at him with something akin to amusement this time around, but he tries not to be too offended by it. She has just given him a major raise, after all. He belatedly realises he still hasn’t given her a specific answer yet, so he quickly speaks again. “I will definitely take the job; it is a wonderful opportunity that you’re giving me. I cannot thank you enough for this.”

“We would be stupid not to give this opportunity to a man of your capacity, Kris,” is the response he gets, as misses Richardson is smiling amicably at him again. “Your father has definitely trained you well in the business.” He tries not to let his surprise show in his expression, but can’t help the stiffening of his shoulders and the tightening of his jaw muscles. Of course she knows who his father is, there’s a personal file he had to fill out and it’s not going to take much googling to figure out his birth name is that of Li Zhao Peng’s son. He manages to nod his head once, but doesn’t give a wordy reply.

“I’ll pass it on to mister Harris. He’ll expect you up on the twelfth floor tomorrow morning first thing.” He’s glad she has apparently ended the conversation about his father and moves to get up from the chair he’s sitting in. “Good luck, Kris. I’ll be talking to you again in a month’s time then.” He nods his head once again, giving her a polite greeting and heading for the door.

“Oh and, Kris…” misses Richardson speaks next, causing him to stop in his way out and turn back to her, giving her an inquiring look. “It came to my attention yesterday while going through the files that you and mister Zhang are sharing an address currently.” Another jolt goes through him and he feels the hairs on the back of his neck rise as he waits for what is going to come of this with bathed breath. “I’ve heard of mister Zhang’s situation concerning his mother. It’s very kind of you to help a colleague out while he’s trying to pay of his debts to the hospital.”

The silent message is more than clear to him when misses Richardson’s eyes focus on him with nothing of the earlier amicable atmosphere left, only a warning in her eyes. He doesn’t need to hear it to know what it means. ‘Whatever your reasons are for sharing an apartment, this is the story you’ll go with.’ He knows why he’s being given the warning – relationships within a department are not allowed and he could be fired for it – but the fact that the CEO herself is allowing him to keep Yixing as a secretary despite her suspicions means he must really be useful to them. The grin doesn’t leave his face all the way down to the ninth floor.

.

“To promotions!” Yixing declares later that week, when they’ve finally found a free evening to celebrate, both with a glass of champagne in hand.

“To you,” he adds to the younger male’s words, sending his lover an innocent smile when the surprised gaze finds him more than soon enough. There’s a moment of hesitation before Yixing starts smiling as well, seemingly realising he’s not joking.

“To us,” Yixing states then, a tender warmth in both the younger’s expression and voice. He smiles right back, then leans in to gently tap their glasses together before he leans in a bit further so he can steal a kiss first. Yixing snorts when he pulls away, but doesn’t say anything and takes a sip of the champagne. He does the same thing, looking out through the living room window at the humongous clock that’s still doing its unyielding duty.

“Thank you, Yifan.” The words are soft, so soft he almost doesn’t catch them, so he turns his attention back to Yixing to see why. “Thank you for giving me a place to stay back then.” Yixing is looking at him with a serious expression so he doesn’t try to interrupt, just allows the younger male to say what he needs to say. “For being there when my mother died. For tolerating my destructive behaviour when I needed it. For helping me through it, through the worst nights of my life.” An almost disbelieving smile appears on Yixing’s face then. “For the wonderful holiday to Europe, too, and now the job. Really, thank you.”

He leaves a moment of silence, then shrugs slightly, because he really doesn’t feel like any of those things cost him much effort whatsoever. But he decides to speak when he remembers something very important. “Thank you for the smiles, Yixing. I have a lot to thank you for too, but especially the smiles. The ones you gave me and the ones you made me have.” He doesn’t think Yixing will understand how much they mean to him, because he’s never spoken of the sunshine in his chest and the silver lining all of his clouds have since he’s been receiving those smiles almost on a daily basis, but he doesn’t need Yixing to understand, he just needed to have thanked him for them.

“You’re welcome,” Yixing speaks again after a moment and he appreciates how the younger has given him a moment to just reminisce. “I like it when you smile, anyway. It makes you a lot more attractive and likeable.” The words pull an amused laugh for him and he reaches out with his free hand to swat at Yixing’s thigh. “You’re a dick sometimes,” he states dryly, causing Yixing to start grinning mischievously.

“No, you’re the dick. I just have one.” There’s a moment’s pause, too short for him to say anything in return, when the other male continues. “Well, two actually.” He follows the motioning of Yixing’s hand first to his own crotch and then over to him. Looking at his own chest for a moment in silence as he considers how he’s going to react to those words, he then slowly puts his glass of champagne aside. He notices how Yixing does the same, and so looks back up at the other male with a neutral expression. Yixing is looking at him in worry, although there’s still a slight smile lingering around his lips, the younger clearly trying to decide if he’s angry or if he’s taking it as the joke it was.

Looking at Yixing without doing anything, he watches how the smile disappears completely and the worry as well as regret set up more. But right before the younger can say anything, he lunges forward to take an iron grip on his lover’s upper body so he can start tickling him. “Two dicks? Me a dick!? I’ll show you a dick!” He exclaims, randomly attacking the whole of Yixing’s body with tickle attacks.

The younger male manages to pause his laughter long enough to look at him with a semi-serious expression and state: “I am looking at one.” He makes sure Yixing regrets that second comment long before he finishes tickling him. They continue right on into a make-out session in the couch.


	6. Epilogue

Yixing picks up the last box from his room, looking out the window to the tower clock outside. The sight brings a smile to his face as he remembers plenty of nights looking at the clock’s light and just watching the hands move. It’s a relaxing thing to do, he finds, just watching time pass. Mostly because it allows his mind to think over everything that has been happening and to give it all a place. He’s pretty sure staring at that humongous clock has helped him a lot when his mother died.

“You ready?” William sticks his head through the door, making him look over at the older male rather than outside of the window, giving a quick nod. “Yeah, I am. Thanks again for helping me, Will.”

“Oh, for God’s sake stop mentioning it,” William retorts and Yixing grins lightly.

He’s been doing nothing but thanking the older male ever since William helped him find his new job. It’s a well-paying one as the secretary of ReFurb’s newly assigned CEO. The almost two meters tall American is the head of ReFurb’s Human Resources and therefore also the main reason why Yixing was hired over several hundred other candidates. The other reason being the fact that until he took on the new job, he was the secretary of one of their most respected partners.

“Just tell me the guy is at least going to help you move in tomorrow if he’s not helping you move out,” William complains once more when they get to the moving van downstairs with the last couple of boxes of stuff from inside the top floor apartment. Yixing grins, puts his box down and looks over at his friend.

“He’s going to help me break in the bed for sure,” he declares, because he just can’t help himself making the joke. William needs a split second to process what he’s said, before he makes the expected face at the meaning.

“Oh, God, I didn’t need to know that, Lay. Too much information. Like a truckload too much.” The response is expected and it makes Yixing laugh heartily, knowing William isn’t actually disgusted that he’s together with a guy but just doesn’t need to know about their bedroom activities. He puts the box from his room down on the row of other boxes they’ve already brought down and looks at the whole set for a moment with pride.

“Good to go,” he tells William then. “Can you make sure it’s all solid? I’ll go check every room one last time and make sure all the windows and doors are closed.”

He waits for the affirmation before moving, heading back into the apartment building and taking the elevator up to the top floor. When he steps inside the hallway, he is vaguely reminded of the first time he entered the place, his suitcase in hand and no idea what to expect from the future. How different it is now, when he has no suitcase but a crystal clear picture of his life up ahead. At least the following couple of years. After that, they’ll see.

He checks out the leftovers room first, to make sure there’s nothing left in there, then the bathroom, his room, Yifan’s room and eventually the living room and kitchen. When he returns from the kitchen, he is once again faced with the clock tower and he can’t help but stay to look at it for a little longer, just admiring this more than familiar part of the apartment that he’s going to have to miss from now on.

All of a sudden there’s arms being wrapped around his chest, while a kiss lands in his hair. He startles, looking back at the person behind him and wondering why the hell anyone would do that to him. Until he recognises Yifan, mostly by the scent and the height of the person behind him because he can’t properly look at the taller male’s face, but that doesn’t temper his surprise in the least.

“What are you doing here?” he exclaims, wriggling himself out of the embrace so he can turn around and greet the older with a proper kiss. Yifan’s grinning by the time he pulls away again, but he is doing the same so he doesn’t comment on it.

“I managed to finish up my trip a little earlier,” is the response he gets, Yifan reaching out to take hold of his hand. “They told me I should come help you move.” There’s a short pause and Yixing watches how Yifan’s expression takes on that mixture of amused and happy that he loves so much. “Well, misses Richardson told me to do so. She said I had to say hello to you. She misses your bright and friendly mails. Susan isn’t doing as good of a job at entertaining her as you were.”

Yixing chuckles, then just cuddles right up against Yifan’s chest, breathing in the familiar scent and feeling himself relax automatically because of it. “It’s good to have you back,” he states, letting his fingers intertwine with Yifan’s as he stands like that. “I missed you.” He gets another kiss in his hair in reply to those words, after which he feels Yifan’s chin come to a rest atop his head.

“I missed you too.” The words are rare, Yifan doesn’t admit often to any kind of negative feeling, which is why they warm Yixing all the more. But he knows they also mean the moment is over; and indeed, not a second later the older male straightens up again. “We should get going. William’s waiting downstairs. It’s time to move.” Yixing smiles, warmly, and straightens up as well so Yifan can start moving. But apparently something else catches his lover’s attention first, because he doesn’t turn away immediately.

“Would you look at that,” Yifan speaks a moment later but Yixing looks up at him rather than what he’s looking at, because the smile on Yifan’s face is almost nostalgic. “I just saw the hands move.” Yixing does look over then, watching the clock and wondering why that fills Yifan with so much emotion. But he knows the answer to that question will never come, because the tall male doesn’t talk about things like that. It’s alright with him, he’s just glad that Yifan seems to take it as a good sign since he turns away and leaves the apartment with the smile lingering.

“So I told William that because you weren’t going to help me move you were going to help me break in the bed,” Yixing says when they’re standing in the elevator on the way down. He can see Yifan’s head turn to him from the corner of his eyes. “Can I still count on the latter part to happen?” The only response he gets is Yifan’s hand letting go of his and sliding comfortably around his middle to pull him a little closer into the taller male’s side. He grins, then puts an arm around Yifan as well.

On to the next chapter of their lives, in the house they bought together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the end of my writing. Because quite honestly I'm afraid if I would keep going I'd leave the story hanging in the middle of who knows what. Clearly it's not the end of their story, but where that goes from here on is for you to decide for yourself.  
> I had fun writing this and it's the first time I've written something longer than 2000 words in a long time so I'm also incredibly proud of it.  
> Thank you for reading if you have, I hope you've enjoyed their journey from strangers to lovers and I hope the ending doesn't leave you unsatisfied. Thanks a bunch to those of you who have commented and still might. Thanks a bunch also to those of you who left kudos. And to those of you who've just read and enjoyed this little piece, I'm glad it could do that for you.


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